Debauched Steel
by CzarThwomp
Summary: In the sequel to "Pick Your Poison!", Kristoph Gavin gains Blaise's powers and decides to have his own fun with the cast; which consists of them competing in a demolition derby to the death where the winner gets one free wish from the Coolest Defense in the West himself. But the winner should be leery, for Kristoph's history at finding loopholes makes it where no wish is safe.
1. Preface

**Disclaimer: All material used in this fanfiction belongs to its respective owner(s) and is not associated with them in any way, shape, or form. I, the writer of this fanfic, claim none of it as my own in this non-profit fanfic.**

* * *

Inside Kristoph's dirigible, which floats above the ruined city of Los Angeles, he sits in a purple armchair with a wooden finish, calmly reading a book, mouthing the words to himself, within a room that is furnished with the same items that had also furnished his solitary confinement cell. Suddenly, Kristoph's reading is interrupted by a high-pitched beep.

After a few seconds of ignoring the beep to finish reading the page that he is currently on, the Coolest Defense in the West calmly closes his book and puts in on the nearby end table before looking into the television camera that is being pointed at him with his normal smile.

"Oh, hello there, sorry about giving you a bit of a cold shoulder there; but I just had to finish the page I was on. Stephen King's 'End of Watch' is a real page-turner that really speaks to me; but you're not here about my literary interests, no? Of course not, you're here for 'Pick Your Poison's!' successor, 'Debauched Steel'; but before we jump into the show, I'll summarize the main points- much like how Debeste did with his show.

Kristoph holds up a single finger. "Point number one: This show will be a parody of the video game series, 'Twisted Metal', in which the characters of the 'Phoenix Wright' series compete in a demolition derby and fight to the death, using vehicles of their choosing that I will provide for them, as long as I approve of them, with the winner being granted any wish of their choosing by me with the aid of my newly acquired powers; though, unbeknownst to the cast, I will make it where the winner's wish backfires on them."

Kristoph holds up two fingers. "Point number 2: Given the nature of the show, I will be cutting out the demolition derby and will only be showing the part where the winner receives their wish. And for those of you curious about what happens during the demolition derby, I'll give you a quick rundown- everyone but the winner dies; which brings us to point number three."

Kristoph holds up three fingers. "Point number three: I'll only be able to show air one episode; but thankfully, I have a solution that will ensure the show's longevity: alternate timelines. Yes, thanks to the nature of the multiverse, infinite timelines, and whatnot, every episode after the first will be aired in alternate timelines where a different contestant wins each time."

Kristoph holds up four fingers. "Point number four: You may be wondering why the 'Phoenix Wright' cast would be willing to kill their loved ones in a demolition derby to the death, but it makes sense once you understand the ultimatum that I gave the cast: participate in my competition or I will kill each and every one of them in a slow, painful fashion, bring them back to life, and then repeating the cycle of death and rebirth until they choose the former."

Kristoph holds up five fingers. "And finally, point number five: Teamwork is a wondrous thing that can allow for the development of ideas and possibilities that may not arise from working alone. With that in mind, if you think that a particular character will wish for something in particular, which could very well be the case considering how predictable they can be, send me a message stating what it is, as well as how I could possibly mess it up. Who knows, I may just end up using your suggestion."

The camera zooms in on Kristoph's face, which is bearing a sinister, yet calm, grin. "Exposition aside, I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I welcome you to 'Debauched Steel'."

Kristoph chuckles as the screen fades to black.

* * *

 **A/N:** For the sake of clarity, here's a recap of Kristoph's five points.

 **1\. This show is a parody of the video game series 'Twisted Metal', where the 'Phoenix Wright' cast competes in a demolition derby, using the vehicles of their choice which Kristoph will provide for them, as long as he approves of it, with a wish for anything that they want as the prize. However, like with 'Twisted Metal', Kristoph will make it where the winner's wish will backfire on them.**

 **2\. Since the demolition derby part is essentially just everyone but the winner dying a fiery, vehicular death, each episode will consist of the winner going to Kristoph, making their wish, and viewing the outcome of said wish. Though, for imaginative purposes, at the beginning of each episode, I'll have a little character bio which contains the character's name, their vehicle of choice along with its stats, and a little bio about their motivation.**

 **3\. Going off of point two, since everyone but the winner dies, this show utilizes alternate timelines in which a different character wins. And before you ask about how Kristoph can film a show in multiple alternate timelines, just remember that this is a show that came about because Kristoph gained Blaise's godlike powers that were originally used for a submission-based punishment show; the plot doesn't have to make complete sense.**

 **4\. As to why the 'Phoenix Wright' cast would go through with a competition like this is that Kristoph will kill them all and then bring them back to life in an infinite cycle until they finally agree to do so. That, and a good portion of the cast can't resist the chance to earn a free wish.**

 **5\. I love viewer participation because not only does it help create a sense of community, but it can also help me see possibilities that I would have not been able to come up with had I chose to work alone. As such, like with 'Pick Your Poison!', you, the viewer, can submit ideas that could affect the outcome of an episode. If you wish to do so, send me a message, either in the form of a review or a p.m., stating what character you'd like to see, and I mean any character from the series, what their wish would be, and how it could backfire on them. Who knows- a single message could give a character an episode who would have otherwise not received one; though don't be upset if I choose to not go with your exact idea for the character. Also, if a character has already been given an episode, I will be ignoring all messages pertaining to that character from the moment that the episode has been uploaded; so if you want the best chance of your idea being accepted, just remember that the early bird catches the worm.**


	2. Larry

**Name:** Larry Butz

 **Vehicle:** Butz Mobile _(A completely unsuspicious white, windowless van that is not used to kidnap hot chicks off the street. Honest!)_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 5/5 _(Can't have some flimsy van where non-kidnapped chicks could escape.)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 2/5 _(Weighted down by a few… non-sexual devices in the back.)_

 **Vehicle Handling:** Sluggish _(Can't turn quickly due to the weight of said non-sexual devices.)_

 **Special Weapon:** 3/5 _(Butz Orbitals- Electrical orbs that revolve around the outside of the Butz Mobile and like their creator, they bring only pain and misery to those foolish enough to go near them.)_

 **Bio:** Yo, I'm Larry Butz, a guy who ruins all that he touches. My life has been nothing but a train wreck- I can't hold down a steady job, my friends find me annoying, and women don't want anything to do with me even when I act like a total gentleman! It's not my fault that hot chicks don't come with instructions; but when I win the competition, that Gavin guy will give me the owner's manual.

* * *

In the ruined streets of LA, Kristoph stands on a nearby sidewalk as the pathetic driver of the Butz Mobile, a pathetic man known as Larry Butz, exits his vehicle and scurries over to the diabolical host of 'Debauched Steel'.

Kristoph gives Larry a warm smile. "Larry, as the winner of 'Debauched Steel', you have earned one wish for anything that your heart desires. So, what will it be?"

Much to Kristoph surprise, Larry gets down on his knees, tears streaming from his eyes, and starts groveling at the ex-attorney's feet.

"Oh, Mighty Kristoph, women hate me and I can't think of a single reason why!" Larry complains as he grips Kristoph's leg, tears staining the host's pants.

"Well upon first glance, I can give you eight." Kristoph sneers.

"Hey dude, if I wanted to be insulted, then I'd spend the day with Nick and Edgey!" Larry protests as he gets back up on his feet.

"Calm down, Larry, I'm only kidding." Kristoph pats the disgruntled young man's shoulder. "Now then, tell me your wish."

"I want it where no woman can resist my charms! That I'm the most attractive man in the history of attractive men that no woman can ever live without!" Larry proclaims with a big, goofy grin on his face, his cheeks reddening from the thought of how much he's going to score.

"Whatever you say…" Kristoph replies in a sinister, syrupy voice.

Kristoph raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, Larry looks around and sees no women coming.

"What the hell! Where are all the ladies? Did the wish fail? Am I THAT pathetic?!" Larry pouts as he stomps his foot on the ground.

"Don't speak so soon, Larry…" Kristoph assures the young man as he points to an attractive girl that rushes over to Larry and starts hugging him, causing him to giggle and blush.

Shortly after that, a few more attractive women approach Larry and start kissing his cheeks and stroking his hair.

"Now this is more like it!" Larry states with euphoria in his voice as he savors every moment of this.

However, things start to get a bit unpleasant for Larry when some fat girls approach him and start showering him with affection as well.

"Okay, I did not sign up for fat chicks! Now get these whales away from me before I become their snack!" Larry protests as he tries to push the pudgy girls off of him, but to no avail.

Kristoph chuckles at his handiwork. "Hey now, I'm only giving you what you want; so you better get used to this because the fun has only just begun…" The maniacal host calmly states as he warps himself to the roof of a nearby building.

No sooner had Kristoph warped himself to safety, an enormous group of girls from all walks of life and all regions of the world converge by the millions on Larry's position, surrounding the poor, whimpering man like ants seeing a piece of candy.

Larry screams and pleads for his life as he drowns in the sea of women, but this only excites the deranged females, who start to tear off his clothes, squealing for joy upon seeing his naked form. Soon enough, Larry is under a massive pile of girls who are all trying to have their way with him; his screams for help and gasps for air overshadowed by the shrieks of excitement from his billons of admirers.

Hours later, Larry is found dead, his body flattened like a pancake as blood oozes from his nose and mouth, much to the anguish of Earth's female populace. Well, on the bright side, they say that Larry's funeral will be well-attended and that he makes for a handsome corpse...

Kristoph grins at the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching 'Debauched Steel'."

Kristoph chuckles as the screen fades to black.

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank ItsMuffinTime for submitting the wish for this chapter. Anyways, I hope that you guys enjoyed reading the first chapter of "Debauched Steel" as much as I enjoyed writing it.


	3. Maya

**Name:** Maya Fey

 **Vehicle:** Public Bus _(Just that- an ordinary public bus, driver included. What? Maya can't help it if she hasn't found the time or patience to get her license.)_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 3/5 _(Are you surprised? It's a public bus, not an APC.)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 3/5 _(Again, public bus; but at least it gets the job done)_

 **Vehicle Handling:** Intermediate _(Average steering for an average public transportation vehicle; but do be careful- it makes slightly wide right turns.)_

 **Special Weapon:** 3/5 _(Burgers- In line with her gluttonous nature, Maya always keeps an untold number of burgers hidden on her person at all times; but don't worry, she's willing to share them with the other drivers…and by 'share', we mean by throwing them at their windows to obscure their vision.)_

 **Bio:** Hiya! I'm Maya Fey and I love burgers; and I mean LOOOVE them! They're just so meaty and juicy and yummy in my tummy! I could eat them for every meal of the day, but my fuddy-duddy geezer of a friend only buys me burgers for dinner twice a week IF I'm lucky! Apparently, he thinks that it's "unhealthy" to eat burgers for every meal. As if! Everyone knows that burgers are one of the major food groups next to steak, noodles, and sweets. But after I win 'Debauched Steel', no one will stop me from getting all my essential nutrients!"

* * *

Kristoph sits on the bench at a random bus stop, calmly reading a newspaper as a public bus comes roaring by. When the bus gets close to him, it comes to a screeching halt before the doors open up, allowing Maya, with a child-like look of excitement on her face, to step off and run over to the host of 'Debauched Steel'.

Kristoph calmly closes his newspaper and, while still seated on the bench, looks the petite spirit medium in the eye. "Congratulations, Ms. Fey, for –"

"Yeah, yeah, I won the contest and get a wish! So stop beating around the bush and let me get my prize!" Maya demands with her fists clenched and a look of determination on her face.

"Well, aren't you a little hasty Harriet. You know, you should really slow down and enjoy life; smell the roses. Who knows, it may stop you from doing something you might regret." Kristoph calmly advises as he holds his glasses to his face with his right hand as to hide the sinister grin that he is currently wearing.

Maya stomps her foot and glowers at Kristoph. "Geez! You're just like Nick, going around telling me what I can and can't do!"

Kristoph flashes Maya a fiery glare, the corner of his mouth twitching, upon hearing this brat compare him to his arch nemesis- a bumbling, foolish man who has only won trials by pure luck and doesn't even deserve to breathe the same air as the Coolest Defense in the West.

"I am NOTHING like Phoenix Wright! Never make that mistake again!" Kristoph growls as he clenches his fist, trying his best to hold back the desire to spawn in a bottle of grape juice and kill this annoyingly energetic girl just like he did to that blowhard fool Zak Gramarye.

"Sure you are!" Maya chirps. "You're both attorneys, you both have weird hair, you both wear blue suits, you-"

Maya is interrupted by the ground rumbling as Kristoph slowly raises his clenched fist into the air before punching the steel post of the nearby bus stop sign, not unlike how his younger brother punches the wall behind the prosecutor's bench, causing it to bend like a straw.

"Make. Your. Wish… NOW!" Kristoph snarls, his fist still trembling.

Maya recoils out of shock and slowly takes a step back. "Ok, ok... I want an endless meal of burgers!" The raven-haired medium cheerfully proclaims, able to easily put aside Kristoph's outburst if it means getting her burgers.

"And would you like an endless order of fries with that?" Kristoph sneers, his cheerful grin and calm demeanor returning.

"Nope, just the burgers."

A sinister grin spreads across Kristoph's face. "Granted…"

Kristoph raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, Maya is sitting at a massive table in a fast-food restaurant as an army of waiters keeps delivering plates of burgers to her while Kristoph stands off to the side, smiling at what it yet to come.

At first, Maya is overjoyed and eats her immense supply of burgers at an alarming rate, cleaning off trays faster than they can be brought to her; but nothing lasts forever, and Maya learns this lesson the hard way after several hours of rampant eating only to find that, for once in her life, she's full.

Maya rubs her belly which is now protruding and rotund, looking like she is about to give birth. "I am SOOO full! I can't possibly eat another bite…! Well, time to go!" Maya tries to get up from her seat, but finds that she is unable to move.

Maya struggles in vain to get up from her seat. "What's the big idea? I'm full and I want to leave right now!" The raven-haired girl whines.

Kristoph walks over to Maya while shaking his head. "I'm afraid I can't allow that, Ms. Fey, for you see, you asked for an endless meal and that is just what you're going to get."

"Well I'm not eating anymore and that's that!" Maya puffs her cheeks and looks away from the burgers in protest.

A wry smile spreads across Kristoph's face. "If that's how you're going to be…" Kristoph snaps his fingers, causing the hundreds of thousands of burgers on the table to grow legs and march towards Maya's mouth.

Maya tries her best to throw the burgers off of her, but they are too powerful and too numerous to be repelled. Eventually, the burgers start forcing their way into Maya's mouth and down her throat as the poor girl tries to spit them out, but to no avail. And with each burger that makes it into Maya's stomach, she grows a little bit larger until she looks like a giant ball with her now-stubby head, arms, and legs ever so slightly protruding from her massive girth.

Kristoph snickers to himself at the fact that Maya is starting to resemble Violet from 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' when she was turning into a giant blueberry; but this is no whimsical chocolate factory with hordes of little men who can break into musical numbers on the spot. No, this is 'Debauched Steel', a show where there are no musical numbers nor happy endings- evident by Maya swelling until she becomes so full that she literally explodes with a loud, shrill scream of anguish as ground beef and blood coat the entire area, except for Kristoph and his cameraman, who were protected by barrier that the derange host created with his powers right before the gluttonous medium burst like a massive zit.

"Well, I guess she won't want dessert…" Kristoph sneers at the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching 'Debauched Steel'."


	4. Yuri Cosmos

**Name:** Yuri Cosmos

 **Vehicle:** Galactic Scooter _(The only vehicle capable of allowing mankind to reach the stars with glory and ease! Sure, it may be a Segway, but it is the mighty Segway of the noble astronaut!)_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 1/5 _(The proud and mighty Galactic Scooter does not need ludicrous things such as armor slowing it down! To reach glory, one must be courageous and willing to take risks!)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 5/5 _(The great and glorious Galactic Scooter is the pinnacle of advancements in transportation, for it is capable of reaching magnificent speeds of up to Mach One. Granted, it has never went over 155 mph- but it also has a hidden cup holder! Isn't space science a truly marvelous thing?!)_

 **Vehicle Handling:** Ultra Tight _(The celebrated and distinguished Galactic Scooter is a mighty vehicle, capable of both literally and figuratively driving circles around small, elderly women at an excess of 80 mph for hours on end with nary an issue!)_

 **Special Weapon:** 2/5 _(Photon Torpedoes- The only weapon worthy of those brave enough to explore the dark, vast depths of outer space! Sure, they may just be regular potatoes, but when fired from a potato gun mounted on a Segway traveling at over 100 mph, they are photon torpedoes!_

 **Bio:** Greetings, comrades, my glorious name is Yuri Cosmos and I am the assistant director of the Cosmos Space Center, the "center of the cosmos"! I know that your jaw has just dropped from the sheer epicenes of my presence, so I will give you a brief moment to regain your composure… Now, you may be wondering why a great man such as myself is here given all of my glorious accomplishments, but those aren't enough! No, those who are exalted throughout the ages are those with aspirations as boundless as the depths of space itself! That is why I feel a kindred connection with space- for it and I are complex, beautiful, and have enough mysteries and depth to provide countless hours of study and investigation. Ever since I was a young lad, it has been my dream to explore every nook and cranny of the cosmos for the betterment of humanity and earn my glorious place in history! So fear not, people of Earth, for once I, Yuri Cosmos, win this competition, I shall be able to personally unlock the mysteries of the universe; singlehandedly propelling mankind into a golden age of space research that many would deem impossible! I- Wait! Where are you going!? Come back here! Don't make me chase after you with my Galactic Scooter!

* * *

Kristoph stands on the rooftop of a large skyscraper, looking down at his watch as he waits for the winner of 'Debauched Steel' to come and claim his prize.

Suddenly, Kristoph is alerted to the presence of the winner, Yuri Cosmos, who is speeding along the rooftop of the skyscraper next to the one that Kristoph is on via his Galactic Scooter, his theme song blaring loud and proud on its speakers, as he launches his scooter into the air via some slanted boards of plywood, jumps the gap between the two buildings with ease, and lands right in front of Kristoph.

Kristoph flashes Yuri a grin. "Well, you certainly know how to make an entrance."

"It is of no surprise that a glorious man such as I would make an equally stunning entrance; for a man such as myself appears but once in a century- no, a millennia!" Yuri proudly proclaims with an outstretched arm and a look of pure pride in his eye.

"Yes, well, as the winner of 'Debauched Steel'-"

"A glorious win that shall go down in the annals of history for all eternity as one of my greatest triumphs- though considering who I am, there are so many to choose from…" Yuri strokes his moustache as he becomes absorbed in his narcissistic thoughts regarding his life's accomplishments: founding the Cosmos Space Center, the overall success of the HAT-1 mission, last week when he opened up a pickle jar that he just bought at the store that day all by himself, and many more victories of varying levels of impressiveness.

Yuri is suddenly snapped out of his thoughts by Kristoph angrily clearing his throat as he impatiently taps his foot on the ground, angrily glaring at this egotistical dwarf of a man who can't put give even a second of his time to the host of 'Debauched Steel', a man who literally controls the reality of their universe.

Yuri flashes Kristoph a look of irritation as if the ex-attorney is the one bothering him. "Yes, do you want something?"

"Oh, nothing really… Just that I'm giving you a free wish." Kristoph wryly remarks.

"Ah yes, my glorious wish…! Yes, my wish shall be one that is a gift to mankind from the greatest man who has and will ever live, Yuri Cosmos! My wish shall be one so grand that bards shall sing about me for the rest of time, children everywhere, both male and female, will be named after me in the hopes that they will achieve even a sliver of my greatness, and people will proclaim, 'glory be to the womb that bore Yuri Cosmos and the teat that he suckled upon!' They will build statues in my image and-"

"Will you just make your wish?! I don't have all day, you know!" Kristoph snaps.

Yuri revs the engine of his Galactic Scooter as he glares at Kristoph. "Such insolence! The world doesn't revolve around you, you know! If you wish to be as glorious as I, Yuri Cosmos, you must learn humility. As for my wish, I wish to be able to travel throughout the vastness of space with ease to discover all the mysteries in our universe!"

A sinister grin spreads across Kristoph's face. "Granted…"

Kristoph raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, Yuri sees that his Galactic Scooter is now outfitted with two large rocket engines.

Yuri looks at the changes made to his Galactic Scooter and nods in approval. "You are a man of great taste, Gavin, for you know that no vessel can do better than my noble Galactic Scooter!"

"I'm glad you like it and I wish you the best of luck on your space journey."

"Ha! Great men such as myself don't need luck! Now watch as I, Yuri Cosmos, singlehandedly pave mankind's path to galactic glory!" Yuri boldly states as he smashes the glass case between the handlebars of his Galactic Scooter and presses the red button underneath, igniting his Segway's new rocket engine and sending him soaring up into the sky at a breakneck speed as Kristoph looks upwards, a huge grin his face as he is glad to be rid of that narcissistic loudmouthed assistant director.

As Yuri soars into the upper parts of the atmosphere and lower portion of the stratosphere, he can feel the intense heat created by the friction of air resistance as his body bursts into flames; but despite devolving into a large fireball, Yuri merely laughs at the situation.

"Ha! This fire is nothing to a great man such as myself whose fiery passion and determination burns hotter and brighter than any flame; for no force, whether it be nature or man, can stop me, Yuri Cosmos, the greatest man to ever li-"

Yuri is silenced as he enters the void of space, where no one can here you scream or rave on about how great you think you are.

 _Ah, the majesty of space, a realm of absolute silence due to a lack of air. Good thing I'm wearing a-_ Yuri's eyes widen at the horrific reality that he is not wearing a spacesuit. _This is most awful! I have to turn back… before… oxygen… depravation… kicks…_ But before he can finish his thoughts, Yuri is rendered unconscious from a lack of air.

The mass of Yuri's limp, unconscious body tilts his Galactic Scooter so that it is now careening to the Earth's surface in a huge ball of fire as it quickly descends back through the Earth's atmosphere before creating a Yuri Cosmos-shaped crater in the ground near Kristoph's position with a thunderous thud.

"You know, Cosmos was right; he was a shining star… a shooting star, that is!" Kristoph sneers at the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching 'Debauched Steel'."


	5. Gumshoe

**Name:** Dick Gumshoe

 **Vehicle:** APC _(You heard right, an armored personnel carrier. Hey, when your salary is as low as Gumshoe's, you're forced to live in a part of town where you need a vehicle like that to avoid being robbed.)_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 5/5 _(As previously sated, any less armor and the numerous gangs roaming Gumshoe's neighborhood would strip him of his last dime.)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 3/5 _(It may not be the fastest vehicle out there, but it does a good enough job getting Gumshoe away from that creepy cheese salesman that's always standing outside his apartment building and giving him creepy looks.)_

 **Vehicle Handling:** Intermediate _(It had better have decent handling, considering that Gumshoe went through all the trouble of stealing it from the military. Don't worry Gumshoe, Edgeworth doesn't have to know.)_

 **Special Weapon:** 3/5 _(The Dancing Blue Badger- The Blue Badger panel that Gumshoe built with his own two hands which now adorns the roof of his vehicle. Exert extreme caution around it, for anyone who stares into its eyes meets with a terrible fate- ranging from spontaneous combustion to having their tongue permanently taste like the Twin-T set.)_

 **Bio:** For too long, Mr. Edgeworth and the rest of my superiors have called me "incompetent" and "bumbling", but they'd be too if they had to live off expired, no-name brand instant noodles every day! Well, when I win Gavin's contest, I'll be eating like a king and THEN we'll see who gets the final laugh! … Sorry about that outburst, pal, but you'd be the same way if you've been malnourished for too many years to count.

* * *

Kristoph calmly sits on a sidewalk bench, reading his newspaper. The ambiance is perfect: there's a light breeze in the air, birds are chirping, and Phoenix's burning corpse, which has been placed in front of the bench, gives off a pleasant warmth that feels juuust right. Yes, the host of 'Debauched Steel' has attained a level of comfort where nothing could cause him to look up from his paper- even the loud rumble of Gumshoe's APC's engine as it parks next to the bench.

The only thing that snaps Kristoph out of his peaceful trance is an offensive odor that can only be described as a combination of noodle broth and raw sewage, followed by being patted on the shoulder by a big, meaty hand. Kristoph, with a scowl of disgust and irritation on his face, looks up to see Gumshoe flashing him his normal goofy grin as if there's not a care in the world.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't have any spare change on me. Perhaps you'll find the help that you need at the homeless shelter across town." Kristoph scoffs before returning to his newspaper; only to be interrupted yet again by Gumshoe pushing the host of 'Debauched Steel's newspaper down so that he can get right in the disgruntled ex-attorney's face and look him square in the eye.

"Hey, pal, I'm no hobo! I'm Detective Gumshoe! You know, the guy who just won your demolition derby." Gumshoe huffs, the smell of noodles and tooth decay that forms the overpowering stench of his breath makes Kristoph gag and almost vomit in his mouth.

Kristoph calmly puts his index finger on the bridge of Gumshoes nose and slowly pushes the scruffy detective out of his personal space before reaching into his pocket and taking out a bottle of hand sanitizer, which he proceeds to use quite unsparingly and returns to his pocket upon finishing.

"Well, considering the fact that I have seen you eating out of the Precinct's dumpster on a regular basis, on top of you smelling like you came back from the dead after swimming a few laps in a septic tank, my prior confusion is justifiable." Kristoph sneers.

"Hey, pal, I'll give you the dumpster part, but insulting my body odor is where I draw the line. But how do you expect me to clean when I earn less money than a Borginian fisherman?" Gumshoe angrily retorts.

"Easy. It's called soap. Buy a bar- it only costs a dollar…" Kristoph responds with a wry smile. "But I digress, what is your wish, Gumshoe?"

"Simple, pal. I wanna be the richest man on Earth." Gumshoe proclaims.

"Gra-" Kristoph tries to raise his arms in the air to grant Gumshoe's wish, but is interrupted by Gumshoe.

"With a huge mansion." Gumshoe interjects.

"Gra-"

"And a frozen yogurt machine that dispenses weenie-flavored frozen yogurt."

"Gra-"

"And a lime-green pimp coat, with a matching Jaxon hat."

"Gra-" Kristoph growls with a look of ever-growing irritation on his face.

"And a butler named Mr. Binglebop who speaks in a snooty British accent and has the legs of a chicken, the torso of a gorilla, the wings of a dragon, and a head that looks just like Mr. Edgeworth's."

"GRANTED! End of story!" Kristoph yells before quickly raising his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light.

When the light diminishes, Gumshoe, who is now wearing a lime-green pimp coat and Jaxon hat, sits in a posh lounge chair in one of the many sitting rooms of his new mansion.

"Ah, now this is more like it…" Gumshoe comments as he puts his hands behind his head and starts to nod off. However, before he can fall asleep, he is interrupted when he is lightly tapped on his shoulder by his chicken/gorilla/dragon/Edgeworth butler, who is carrying a silver platter with a large cup of frozen yogurt on it.

"Your frozen yogurt, sir." Mr. Binglebop states as he extends the tray over to Gumshoe, who responds by quickly snatches the frozen yogurt and scarfing it down.

"Is there anything else I can do for you at the moment, sir?" Mr. Binglebop asks, earning him a curt headshake from Gumshoe as he continues eating. After watching Gumshoe's rather unrefined eating display for a few more seconds, Mr. Binglebop lets out a long sigh before leaving the room.

A few minutes later, after Gumshoe has finished his frozen yogurt and has discarded the empty cup on the floor, he gets up from his seat and starts to tour the rest of his massive new home that has a wide variety of rooms including one that contains two Olympic-sized swimming pools, one filled with water and the other with chocolate pudding, one with a full-sized bowling alley, where all the pins have Franziska's face painted on them, and one that contains a pristine bathroom, complete with a hot tub and working toilet.

Upon finishing his tour of his house, Gumshoe enters the mansion's lavish front foyer, where falls to his knees as he bursts out in tears of joy. "W-We did it, Ma!" Gumshoe wails at the ceiling. "Your little Gum-gum is living in a palace where he doesn't have to pay his rent by being on the receiving end of a golden shower!"

Suddenly, Gumshoe's celebration is cut short when a police squad, led by Detective Bobby Fulbright barges into the mansion.

"W-What's happening, pal!?" Gumshoe shrieks as he quickly springs to his feet.

"In justice we trust!" Fulbright flashes his badge. "I'm Detective Bobby Fulbright and you, Gumshoe, are under arrest for building your wealth off of an illegal sweatshop producing 'Steel Samurai' knockoffs!"

"What are you talking about, pal? I got my wealth from winning 'Debauched Steel'. I'd never run a sweatshop."

"Well, then explain this…!" Fulbright walks over and kicks down a nearby door, revealing a sweatshop filled with young workers, including Kay, John Marsh, and Pearl, with droopy, bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep and gaunt, spindly bodies from malnutrition tirelessly work at an assembly line creating a wide variety of 'Plumed Punisher' products ranging from actions figures to beach towels. All the while, Maggey Byrd, who is sitting in a chair and holding a whip, glares at the poor workers.

Maggey cracks her whip. C'mon, you bunch of slackers, Big Daddy Gumshoe needs a new lime-green coat! Work faster!" Maggey cracks her whip again for emphasis, causing the workers to speed up production as the room fills with their soft sobs.

"How do you sleep at night!?" Fulbright snarls, flashing Gumshoe a look of pure venom.

"L-Look, pal, I know that it looks bad, but I'm telling you that I'm innocent! I'd never subject anyone to that kind of fate, honest!" Gumshoe tries to plead, but his words fall on deaf ears as Fulbright slowly shakes his head.

"Riiight, and Prosecutor Blackquill finds me annoying…" Fulbright sneers with a roll of his eyes before pushing Gumshoe to the ground and slap a pair of handcuffs on his wrists.

Fulbright lifts Gumshoe onto his feet by the collar of his coat. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you." Fulbright states as he pushes Gumshoe out of the mansion and into a nearby prison van.

On a nearby hill in the distance, Kristoph watches the entire scene unfold, a sinister grin spread across his face. "Remember kids, a fool and his money are soon parted; a process made all the faster when you don't specify how you want to earn your wealth in the first place…" Kristoph sneers at the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching 'Debauched Steel'."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank TaguelCat01 for submitting the idea for this chapter. Anyways, I hope that you guys enjoyed reading this chapter of "Debauched Steel".


	6. John Doe

**Name:** John Doe

 **Vehicle:** Ice Cream Truck _(Just your run-of-the-mill ice-cream truck owned by your run-of-the-mill ice cream salesman. Nothing unusual here.)_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 2/5 _(Do the job stealthily, quickly, and to your customer's satisfaction- the cornerstones of the humble ice-cream salesman. Follow them to a T and you won't be on the scene long enough to take any casualties.)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 4/5 _(Can't follow the second cornerstone of being an ice-cream salesman with a slow vehicle, can you now?)_

 **Vehicle Handling:** Tight _(A vehicle's turning capabilities can mean the difference between a happy customer and many frowns all around.)_

 **Special Weapon:** 4/5 _(Radio Transceiver- When you are in the business for as long as John Doe has, you establish a few connections- connections that make people go away through a wide range of methods.)_

 **Bio:** Hello, my name is John Doe, a simple ice cream salesman whose main purpose in life is to serve his customers flawlessly and with absolute trust between them and myself. I have recently been contracted by a few customers to make a delivery to a client- one who is in a position of power too great for me to get close to by ordinary means. However, when I win Mr. Gavin's show that shall no longer be a problem and the job will be completed with ease.

* * *

Kristoph calmly waits on a nearby sidewalk, his back against the side of a building and his calm, icy gaze fixed upon the horizon, for the winner of 'Debauched Steel" to come and claim their prize. Silence fills the air, only being briefly interrupted by the faint howl of a passing breeze, as Kristoph grins to the empty street in front of him, as if expecting the driver to appear out of thin air at that very moment.

Sure enough, in a matter of seconds, the silence is replaced by the unmistakable sound of the 'Ice-Cream Truck Song' as Shelly's vehicle approaches Kristoph's position, stopping about ten feet from the host, abruptly ending the catchy tune, before the assassin calmly exits his vehicle; but unlike most contestant, who would waste no time in rushing over to Kristoph and claiming their wish, Shelly chooses to just stand by his ice cream truck, his posture stiff like that of a stone statue that one would find in a courtyard, not moving an inch as he and Kristoph lock cold, unyielding stares for what feels like an eternity. Kristoph, who is growing impatient by the winner of his competition's odd behavior, quickly gives up and proceeds to approach Shelly.

Kristoph slowly claps his hands. "Congratulations, John Doe, on winning 'Debauched Steel'. What is your-" Kristoph is stopped mid-sentence as Shelly, without saying a word, pulls out a pistol and fires a single bullet straight into the center of the host of 'Debauched Steel's' forehead, killing him instantly as his corpse falls to the ground.

"That." Shelly nonchalantly states as he slips his pistol back into his pocket, approaches Kristoph's corpse, and places one of his infamous calling cards on his latest victim's body.

With his job completed, Shelly calmly, yet quickly, returns to his vehicle and drives away from the area as the 'Ice-Cream Truck Song' plays from its speakers once more; leaving Kristoph's cameraman dumbfounded, still filming his employer's fresh corpse as he himself stares at it, before regaining his senses and pushing a button on his camera, causing a picture of Kristoph in his deranged breakdown pose, against a solid grey background, with a caption underneath it that reads 'WE ARE CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES…' to appear on screen for the viewers at home.


	7. Morgan

**Name:** Morgan Fey

 **Vehicle:** The Sacred Hearse _(A hearse that has been used by the Fey family for four generations and counting. Be careful not to even breathe near it when Morgan's around, lest you end up in the back.)_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 1/5 _(Hearses normally have more resilient defenses; but then again, most hearses aren't driven by women whose pupils completely disappear when they're angry and who prefer a more head-on approach to solving their problems.)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 4/5 _(The original speed rating for this vehicle was a 2/5, but when it's being driven by a ruthless, psychopathic woman who is seen as sick by her demented daughter who killed two people and tried to kill three more, it becomes a 4/5)_

 **Vehicle Handling:** Sluggish _(One's vehicle can't turn all that fast when the back is filled with ten tourists who forgot to address Pearl as 'Mystic Pearl'.)_

 **Special Weapon:** 5/5 _(Old Lady Thelma- Don't underestimate the power of community in a small village like Kurain. Take Morgan's good old friend, Thelma Maite, who lives two doors down, for example, whose brother's wife's friend's friend's third-cousin's husband's old fourth-grade teacher's niece's bus driver's accountant's dentist's thrice removed second-cousin's friend's sister's husband is an exceedingly influential member of Congress, and with one quick phone call to Thelma, Morgan can have the entire military at her disposal to destroy her enemies.)_

 **Bio:** Hello, valued person who I am honored to be in the presence of, my name is Morgan Fey, a lowly member of a lowly branch family residing in lovely Kurain Village- though please, do show me the proper respect that I deserve and address me as 'Mystic Morgan'. A little over 26 years ago, I was part of the main family, destined to become the Master, the leader, of my village, when suddenly, my sister most foul, Misty, usurped my title from me; causing me to lose my husband, my dignity, and any sort of happiness in my heart and leaving only an empty void in its place- a void that has since been filled with bitterness, a desire for vengeance, and the ability to make tea so bitter that you'd lose your tongue and jaw-droppingly large strawberry deserts. Though once my sister left the village, as well as her eldest daughter, leaving only her other slow-witted daughter behind, I tried on two separate occasions to kill that wretched girl and place my own youngest daughter, Mystic Pearl, an unparalleled prodigy in the art of spirit channeling, in her rightful place as the Master- but alas, that never came to be due to the incompetence of my accomplices, as well as that bluffing attorney friend of hers who never knew when to quit. After my last defeat, I had nearly given up all hope that the balance of power would be restored in Kurain Village… but then a miracle occurred in the form of Mr. Gavin's television show. Yes… once I win this competition, I shall right the many wrongs that I have suffered and bring about a golden age of prosperity for Kurain Village- to that, I promise…

* * *

Kristoph sits on his usual bench, humming 'Solitary Confinement- Darkness Theme' to himself as he reads his usual newspaper, patiently waiting for the winner of 'Debauched Steel' to come and claim their prize.

Suddenly, Kristoph's reading is interrupted when he hears a soft, polite clearing of the throat, which, upon lowering his newspaper, he sees its source- Morgan Fey, who stands patiently before him as she sips from the cup of tea that she always carries with her.

"Ah, Ms. Fey, it's a pleasure to see you." Kristoph calmly responds, flashing the woman a soft grin.

"Oh no, Mr. Gavin, the pleasure's all mine." Morgan smiles back. "For in addition to your show, you are the man who struck down that fool Phoenix Wright and stripped him of his livelihood and honor- a deed that I took great pleasure in learning of."

"'Twas nothing, Ms. Fey. I only did what I had to do."

"Yes… Too bad it ended with that bluffing fool turning your protégé, and even your own brother, against you and sentencing you to life in prison- just like how he did to me in regards to my daughter…" Morgan's face contorts into a cold, soul-piercing glare that causes her pupils to disappear, though it doesn't seem to faze Kristoph, who just keeps grinning through unwavering eyes. "Speaking of which, how is my old prison cell? You know, Solitary Cell #13? I was moved out of it roughly after Wright was disbarred and heard that you were its most recent resident." The woman calmly asks, taking a sip of tea as if wasn't embittered just mere seconds ago.

"Fine, fine…" Kristoph pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "The brick walls were a bit faded, but I was able to supplement that by using my connections to spruce up the space with some furniture from my home- my favorite armchair, a few end tables, a bookshelf filled with my favorite novels; you know, the basics."

"A pleasure to hear." Morgan sips her tea again.

"Well, Ms. Fey, as much as I'd like to continue this pleasant conversation, I'm a busy man with many items on my itinerary, so please make your wish so that we may both be on our merry ways."

Morgan lets out a refined chuckle. "Oh, esteemed sir, you certainly need not ask me twice. My wish is quite simple, really- to usurp that intolerable brat, Maya Fey's, position of Master of the Kurain Channeling Technique and claim it for myself!" Morgan proclaims as she scowls at Kristoph with a look that feels as though it's boring holes into his very soul, though his appearance wouldn't show it.

"Alright then, if that's what you desire, I'll make you the Master." Kristoph raises his hands, ready to grant the wish, but is stopped when Morgan raises her own hand and clears her throat in a fashion more assertive than that of earlier.

"Please wait, Mr. Gavin. I have yet to finish my wish." Morgan states in a wry tone.

"Well, then what IS the rest of your wish?"

"Considering my lack of spiritual powers, if I were to take the role of Master, I could be overthrown with little difficulty. That is why my wish is for you to give me the spiritual power that will allow me to outshine that of my impudent niece!" Morgan requests with a smug grin, proud of herself for thinking ahead in such a manner befitting one deserving of the honor of leading Kurain.

A devious smirk spreads across Kristoph's face. "Granted…"

Kristoph raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, Morgan calmly clasps her hands together, closes her eyes, and mumbles a chant to herself. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Morgan opens her eyes and gives Kristoph a look that is a mixture of confusion and dissapointment.

"Are you sure that the wish worked, Mr. Gavin? I'm unable to channel any spirits."

"Oh, trust me, Ms. Fey. Your wish was granted…" Kristoph snickers.

"Well, if I can't channel spirits, then what spiritual power do-" Morgan is interrupted by a sparkling shard of blue rock careening out of the sky and stabbing her in the back, killing her and causing her corpse to fall face-first on the ground.

After a few moments of unconsciousness, Morgan comes to her senses, only to see the world around her turn light grey as a blue flame appears on the center of her corpse.

 _Wh-What is the meaning of this!?_ Morgan thinks to herself with much angst, given how she is currently unable to speak.

 _Welcome to the Ghost World, Ms. Fey,"_ Kristoph telepathically tells Morgan. _You're now dead. But fret not, for you have now been given the spiritual power, or, as they say in the Ghost World, 'ghost trick', that you desire. Now, see the blue flame that is on your corpse? That's your soul. And do you see that bright white spot on that nearby lamp?_ The host of 'Debauched Steel' asks as he directs Morgan's attention over to a lit reddish-orange desk lamp sitting on top of a wooden crate in a nearby alley, which has a white dot on it.

 _Yes, but what does that have to do with my new power?_ Morgan asks.

 _That's a core, and to answer your question, it allows you to possess that lamp and use your ghost trick on it. Now, just move your soul into the lamp and exert your will over it to see your power in action._

Morgan complies with Kristoph's request and enters the desk lamp before using her power on it, which causes it to shine slightly brighter than it originally was.

 _Is this some kind of joke, Mr. Gavin? You said that I had spiritual power, yet I see nothing happening._ Morgan says with irritation in her thoughts.

 _It's there, Ms. Fey, didn't you see what happened to the lamp?_

 _My 'power', if you can even call a useless skill such as this that, is to make a lamp slightly brighter!?_ Morgan growls.

 _Yes, I did as you asked and gave you a spiritual power that allows you to outshine that wretched little glutton of a woman. Just be careful, the light that burns brightest burns fastest._ Kristoph sneers, causing Morgan to shriek in frustration.

Kristoph turns to the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching 'Debauched Steel'."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank Aria and Clive and JordanPhoenix for submitting the idea for this chapter; and while I am on the topic of appreciation, I would like to thank everyone that has commented on this fanfic so far and let them know that I am very thankful for their input. I know that I don't publically say this enough, but I really appreciate everyone that has taken the time to read my works. You guys are debeste- er, I mean the best fan base that a guy could ask for!


	8. Dahlia

**Name:** Dahlia Hawthorne

 **Vehicle:** The Rose _(A red Portia that was kindly given to Dahlia by an admirer who was brought to the yard by her milkshakes.)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 5/5 _(You know the old saying: Fire on the head means fire in the bed- or for those who mess with Dahlia, their deathbed after she runs them down at breakneck speeds.)_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 1/5 _(Like mother, like daughter.)_

 **Vehicle Handling:** 5/5 _(Once Dahlia sets out to get revenge, she will not stop until that person is dead- so knowing that her most despised enemies, Phoenix and Mia, are competing, she has gained complete control over her vehicle.)_

 **Special Weapon:** 1/5 _(Puppy Dog Eyes- Dahlia uses her cute, innocent façade to guilt/distract pathetic male drivers into crashing their cars. Unfortunately, it's only effective on three of the drivers, making it where this weapon is as much a failure as its user.)_

 **Bio:** Hello, my name is Dahlia Hawthorne; and I just want to say… that it's an honor for me to be here in your noble presence. Whether or not I win this competition, I will appreciate having been given the opportunity to compete and… and… Screw this! I am sick and tired of having to act like my pathetic prude of a sister whenever I meet new people! You probably know all about my true nature, so I'm going to cut to the chase: I want revenge and I want it now! Revenge on my selfish, bitter crone of a mother; revenge on that worthless idiot, Phoenix Wright; and most of all, I want my revenge on stupid bimbo slut Mia Fey, who effectively tied the noose around my neck! If it wasn't for her, that whiny moron Phoenix would be dead and I'd still be alive and well! That's why when I win this contest, Gavin's going to help me make up for lost time…

* * *

Dahlia exits her vehicle at the designated spot, and with a warm smile on her face, elegantly walks up to Kristoph, who is glaring daggers at the red-headed woman as he lets out a low, guttural growl through clenched teeth- a stark contrast to the collected grin that he normally flashes when talking with others.

"Hello, Krissie. I'm honored that you allowed little old me to participate in your competition and even more enthralled at having won." Dahlia says in a sickeningly sweet voice which only succeeds in making the ex-attorney growl even louder as he bears his teeth and clenches his fists.

"I'm sure you are." Kristoph hisses with venom in his voice.

Crocodile tears start welling up in Dahlia's eyes, her body slightly trembling. "K-Krissie… Why are you acting so hostile? Don't you remember me? I thought… I thought that we had a connection…"

"Like I could ever forget what YOU did to ME, you sick little harpy!" Kristoph huffs. "And stop with the cute, innocent girl act! You and I both know that it is utter crap and that underneath it all you are a complete bitch."

Dahlia's face contorts into a scowl that matches Kristoph's.

"Well excuse me for trying to make things less awkward between us!" Dahlia snaps.

"That ship already sailed when you brought your strumpet self before me and ruined my day! Let me guess what your wish is… All the men in the tristate area have heard of your reputation and refuse to be seen with you, so you wish for them to fall madly in love with you…? Your 'hair' is actually a wig and you want me to make it real…? You've recently contracted an incurable STD that is killing you in a slow, painful manner and want me to make it go away…? I do so hope that it's the lattermost one…" Kristoph sneers with a wry smirk.

Dahlia growls at the host of _Debauched Steel_. "It's none of those! And as for the incident that caused this, it was my twin sister- not me!- So if you want to call anyone a slut, then please direct those comments to my stupid sister!"

"I don't have time for your sick games, you twisted succubus." Kristoph groans. "Just tell me your wish so that I never have to see your two-timing face ever again!"

"Well, since you asked so nicely…" Dahlia sarcastically responds, making sure to give Kristoph the warmest grin that she can muster. "I want to live out my life like it would have been had that insufferable bitch Mia Fey not incarcerated me!"

A sinister grin spreads across Kristoph's face. "Granted…"

Kristoph raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, Dahlia finds herself in a college classroom, where the professor, an old man with frizzled white hair and who's wearing coke-bottle glasses and trousers that are up to his shoulders, discusses literary elements from the 19th century.

 _I'm back…_ Dahlia thinks to herself as she looks around the room. _I'm really back…_

Dahlia's thoughts are interrupted when her professor gazes over at her and points the piece of chalk that he's holding in her general direction.

"Quickly, Ms. Hawthorne. Describe the differences between the works of Wordsworth and Whitman." The professor demands in an unenthusiastic, monotone voice.

Dahlia cringes and starts to sweat. It's not easy to remember the distinctions between poets after you've been absent from a class for over a decade- an absence which includes being arrested and executed.

"Well, um… Y-You see… In- in retrospect…" Dahlia struggles to get her answer, or lack thereof, out as the professor gives her an impatient glare and adjusts his coke-bottle glasses.

"We're waiting, Ms. Hawthorne…" The professor groans.

 _What is the answer to this stupid question!?_ Dahlia internally screams as she starts to fidget in her seat.

"I know the answer…" A familiar voice arrogantly states.

Dahlia looks over to her right and, much to her shock and horror, sees Mia, looking as she did before Redd White killed her, with a smug grin on her face sitting in the seat next to her.

Dahlia's eyes widen before morphing into a glare. "Mia Fey!? You're not in this class!"

"Regardless, I know the answer to the question."

"Then what is it?" Dahlia growls.

"I'm not telling." Mia sneers.

"Then why tell me that you know, you stupid slut!?" Dahlia screams at the top of her lungs, earning her strange looks from her classmates.

"Ms. Hawthorne!" The professor snaps. "I will not tolerate those kinds of outbursts in my classroom. If you don't know the answer to the question, then just say so."

"B-but it wasn't my fault! Mia Fey started it!" Dahlia points to Mia, but all the professor and the other students can see is an empty seat.

The professor slowly shakes his head. "Ms. Hawthorne, there is no student by that name in this class. Now, I have no issues if your sanity is slipping away- Poe was like that and he became a cornerstone of Romanticism; but I will not tolerate this sort of behavior in my classroom. Understood?"

"What are you talking about? She's sitting right there! You'd have to be blind not to notice her flashing her breasts like some floozy!"

"Riiight, Ms. Hawthorne, whatever you say…" Disbelievingly states with a roll of his eyes, believing that the quickest way to resolve this issue is to just play along with the red-headed girl's delusions.

"But I'm telling you the truth! Mia Fey is sitting next to me and is taunting me with the answer to the question!" Dahlia states with exasperation in her voice.

Mia shrugs her shoulders. "Hey, it's not my fault that you're too much of a failure to know the answer."

"I'm not a failure, you stupid bitch!" Dahlia screams as she picks up a book on her desk and chucks it at Mia, only to see it fly right through her before it hits the mousy girl two seats to her right, causing her to yelp in pain as she grips her bleeding nose.

"I've had enough of this, Ms. Hawthorne! Get out of my classroom!" The professor orders, pointing his piece of chalk at the door.

"But-" Dahlia tries to plead.

"OUT!"

Dahlia gets out of her seat and storms out of the classroom and, much to her disdain, is followed by Mia.

"Were you always like this in your classes?" The busty attorney asks, grinning in delight at her cousin's misery.

"Only when you're trying to pick a fight with me, _Madam_ Fey!" Dahlia starts to walk towards the buildings exit and notices that Mia's still following her. "Okay, what gives? Why do you keep following me around? This is supposed to be world where you never uncovered my crimes."

"Remember what you said when you were possessing my sister? 'Even when the body dies, the spirit, the ego, it lives on… forever.'"

"So?"

"It's just that. Even though you may have killed me in Gavin's competition, my spirit still lives on; and just because Gavin sent you to a world where you're an innocent bystander, I will never forget, nor forgive, your crimes and will make it my afterlife's work to make your life a living hell- just like I did in that classroom."

"You're going to ruin my life by pestering me?" Dahlia flips her hair with a huff of derision. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I may bluff, Dahlia, but I'm as serious as you are a failure." Mia sneers.

"I'm rubber, you're glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to your rather large derriere." Dahlia sweetly retorts, cocking her head as she flashes Mia a warm grin.

True to her word, Mia begins to relentlessly pester Dahlia no matter where she goes or what she does. Whether she's eating…

* * *

In a café, Dahlia is about to start eating a garden salad that's loaded with thousand island dressing, when suddenly-

Mia appears in the chair in front of Dahlia. "You're seriously eating a salad with such an unhealthy dressing? Are you trying to get as fat as your testimonies are flawed?"

"Are you trying to be as bitchy as you are dense?" Dahlia growls before taking a bite of her salad.

* * *

Or stuck in traffic…

* * *

Dahlia is sitting in her car behind rush-hour traffic that is barely moving.

"Come on! Why isn't anyone moving!?" The red-head snarls as she repeatedly honks her horn.

Mia appears in the passenger's seat. "Maybe a song will calm your nerves…"

Dahlia slowly turns her head to glower at her cousin. "Don't. Even. Think. About. It." Dahlia warns through clenched teeth.

Unfortunately for her, Mia just ignores her and proceeds to sing the most irritating car song that she can think of.

"99 bottles of milk on the wall, 99 bottles of miiilk, take one down, pass it around, 99 bottles of milk on the wall. 98 bottles of milk on the wall, 98 bottles of miiilk-"

Dahlia pounds her fist against the steering wheel. "I get the point, Madame Fey. You're being veeery irritating. Now can you please stop so that I can get through this traffic in peace?"

Once again, Mia ignores her cousin and continues singing as if no objections were made and starts verse three with 97 bottles of milk.

"What the hell is causing this traffic!?" Dahlia blares full-blast on the horn. "MOVE!"

Meanwhile at the front of the long line of cars, Grossberg's vehicle is parked in the middle of the road as he lays in the back seat, his pants removed and his legs above his head, like an infant being changed, while Robert Hammond kneels next to him holding a tube of ointment.

"Hurry, Robert! There's no time! I can't hold out any longer! Grossberg screams in pain.

"Mr. Grossberg, I may have worked with you for over 20 years, but this is absurd!" Hammond protests.

"But Robert! My hemorrhoids are a'boilin and I need you to apply my ointment in my buttock before they erupt like Mt. Vesuvius!" Grossberg begs, which causes Hammond to understandably cringe.

"If that's the case, then why don't you apply your own ointment?"

"Because I can never quite reach them and the ointment makes my fingers smelly. Now quit your dawdling before I turn this car into Willy Wonka's chocolate river!"

"Fine…!" Hammond reluctantly admits with a look of disgust before squirting a small glob of ointment on his finger and, with a shaky wrist and light whimpering, applies it to Grossberg's afflicted area.

"YES!" Grossberg loudly moans, much to Hammond's further horror. "Oh, yes! Cortizone 10, take me AWAAAYYYY!"

* * *

Or laying out her outfit for the next day…

* * *

Dahlia is in her apartment, looking through her closet, which contains about 20 of the same dress that she wears every day, when suddenly Mia appears next to her.

"Guess you're a failure in the fashion department as well. What? Was Costco's having a sale on tacky summer dresses?"

"Really?" Dahlia huffs in disdain. "YOU'RE giving ME fashion advice? The woman who owns a single outfit that wouldn't be out of place in a bad porno movie is criticizing my ensemble?"

"I guess that I shouldn't be surprised that you wouldn't be a stranger to the elements found in bad pornography." Mia flashes Dahlia a wry smile, causing the latter to flash the former a scowl.

"And just what is _that_ supposed to mean, Madame Fey?" The red-headed woman slightly raises her voice.

"You know what I mean… Fuzzy Wonderland…"

"Whatever, I don't have time for this." Dahlia grunts as she makes her way to her bathroom.

* * *

Or even when she's showering…

* * *

As Dahlia is washing herself in her shower while humming the tune of _Distant Traces of Beauty_ , Mia appears right behind her and whispers "Mine are bigger…"

"That's it!" Dahlia screams at the top of her lungs before storming out of the shower, slipping on the dress that she planned to wear the next day, and rushing out of the apartment- but not before stopping in the kitchen and taking a steak knife with her.

After driving like a bat out of Hell in the dead of night, Dahlia arrives at her destination: the Grossberg Law Offices.

Inside Grossberg's office, Mia- the one native to this universe and not the Mia ghost that has been busy haunting Dahlia- is busy dusting her boss' precious fisherman painting.

"Stupid Grossberg!" Mia grumbles to herself. "Making me stay late to dust his ugly fisherman painting. I swear, I have half a mind to take that painting and shove it right up his-"

Mia's rant is interrupted by the sound of the office's door being forcibly flung open by Dahlia, who glares at the female attorney with a gaze as fiery as her hair color and breathes slow, angry snorts through flared nostrils as she brandishes her knife.

Mia turns to face her demented cousin and lets out a shriek of terror. "Dahlia! What are you doing here!?"

"DIE!" The red-headed almost-serial killer screeches at the top of her lungs before lunging at Mia with blinding speed.

Without even having time to realize what is happening, Mia is unable to react as Dahlia stabs the young attorney in the jugular, causing a stream of blood to poor out of her neck like a busted water bottle as her body slams against the wall before slowly sliding to the floor.

Seeing her handiwork in the form of Mia's lifeless corpse, Dahlia can't help but utter her first genuine laugh in years- a laugh that starts off as a small chuckle before quickly evolving into a loud, shrill, unnerving cackle.

At this point, any relatively sane killer would have just walked away from the scene and taken satisfaction in a job well-done- but since when has Dahlia ever been close to sane?

With her laugh remaining strong and her eyes widening, Dahlia takes her knife and proceeds to quickly and repeatedly stab Mia's limp corpse in rapid succession, constantly yelling "Who's the failure NOW, Madame Fey!?", almost as if she's a child in a moon bounce that wants to savor every last moment before their parents tear them away from their fun kicking and screaming- which is exactly what happens ten minutes later when a trembling Grossberg directs four armed police officers into the room and, by some miracle, they manage to disarm Dahlia and slap a pair of handcuffs on her wrists as they drag her out with her laughing and constantly yelling Mia's name for all to hear.

Given the mental state that she was arrested in, which has not improved in the week leading up to her trial, Dahlia's insanity, as well as her crime of murdering Mia, is shown as clear as day to the Court; which declares that she will be sentenced to a mental asylum, where she will spend the rest of her days in a dark, dank, rat-infested padded room where the sounds of her deranged laughter fills the air as she repeatedly yells Mia's name.

Outside the asylum, Kristoph stands outside the main entrance and snickers to himself before flashing a cold look at the camera.

"For any other person in this situation, I would say a witty comment about how the struggles we face give us purpose and a will to strive for greater things, but after what that slut did to me back when I went to Ivy University, she doesn't deserve it…"

Suddenly, as if someone flicked a switch in Kristoph's head, his cool, collected smile returns. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank The Scollard for submitting the idea for this chapter.

In regards to why I was being so vague about Kristoph's anger towards Dahlia, I plan to go into detail about that in a future fanfic revolving around Kristoph; but to give you a hint as to what happened, it involved seeing his arch nemesis in a hideous pink sweater.


	9. Dogen

**Name:** Sirhan Dogen

 **Vehicle:** Groomer's Van _(Hounds are an indispensable part of warfare, and their groomers are no exception. That is why Dogen plans on competing by 'persuading' Anubis' groomer to allow him and his service dog ride shotgun in his van as he drives around the battlefield.)_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 4/5 _(Dogen would never in a million years allow anyone without a respectable, sturdy vehicle care for his loyal partner.)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 2/5 _(Quickness leads to haste, haste leads to folly, and folly leads to failure. Often the most successful jobs are completed through waiting, gauging the moment, and striking when the time is right. If you value your life, then you had best remember this.)_

 **Vehicle Handling:** Very Tight _(It would be in that groomer's best interest to operate his van with optimal precision or things may get… unpleasant.)_

 **Special Weapon:** 4/5 _("Dog Whistle"- Dogs are wonderful creatures, aren't they? Always willing to put their life on the line for their master. Not to mention, there are so many different varieties: big dogs, little dogs, fat dogs, skinny dogs… dogs that can quickly turn you and your family into dog food with a single finger snap.)_

 **Bio:** *Grrr! Woof woof!* Down, Anubis. We don't want to frighten our guest… yet. Hello, I am Sirhan Dogen, a humble assassin, and this is my loyal service dog, Anubis. What's that? You think that it's strange to see a blind assassin? Keh heh. Don't let your eyes deceive you, for that same thinking has led to many a swift, painful death. While it is true that I lack vision, I am always well-informed about many things- such as how our world has been twisted and warped to fit the needs of a corrupt television host. That's why I've been hired by a few concerned people to make sure that things don't stay that way for long. But with this completion, getting close to the man will be rather easy. Isn't that right, Anubis? Keh heh heh…

* * *

As Kristoph sits on a bench engrossed in his favorite novel, _Crime and Punishment_ , he is snapped out of his reading by the sound of a bell ringing, followed by a low growl. And when the host of _Debauched Steel looks up_ , he is greeted by the sight of Dogen giving him a sinister, toothy grin and Anubis.

"Hello, Mr. Gavin. Sorry to interrupt your reading. Patient, meticulous men such as us treasure our hobbies, after all." Dogen comments as he strokes the top of Anubis' head.

"Yes, even from my lonely cell I heard about your work with wood carving." Kristoph replied with a warm smile as he stood up. "And from what I've heard, you had surprising skill for one with your condition."

"All that is required to become a master of something is time; something that you have an abundance of in prison, as you yourself should know."

"Yes, and as much as I'd love to continue this conversation, Mr. Dogen, I'm a busy man. So please state your wish." Kristoph's grin morphs into a glare as he crosses his arms. "… Oh, and if you try to kill me, I will not hesitate to strike you down."

"Mr. Gavin, how you overestimate me. How could a frail, blind man such as I even hope to harm a reality-bending being such as you?"

"You're an infamous assassin; I'm a disliked television host that has conquered the planet. So with that in mind, it's not hard to imagine you trying some kind of tactic to end my life; which is why I had the foresight to have you searched for any possible weapons before the competition started." Kristoph states.

"Well, your search was for naught, Mr. Gavin, for my wish is not for your harm. No, I just wish for you to allow Anubis to perform a trick for you."

"A trick?" Kristoph cocks his head in confusion and shoots Dogen a perplexed look. "As in 'sit' or 'play dead'? …What's your angle?"

"None, Mr. Gavin. You see, Anubis is a social creature and loves to perform; but alas, people get scared and wish to stay away from him, causing him to become rather melancholy." Dogen states, gesturing to Anubis who is now lying on the ground with his face buried in his paws.

Kristoph's disposition lightens as he smiles at Dogen. "Fine. I'll humor you and watch your dog's trick."

"Thank you, Mr. Gavin. This will be a trick that you shan't soon forget. Keh heh heh…" Dogen chuckles as a sinister, toothy grin spreads across his face. "Anubis, shake."

Following his master's order, Anubis, with a guttural growl, bites Kristoph's right hand. Though instead of panic like most people would if they found themselves in this sort of situation, Kristoph lets out a sinister snicker and snaps his fingers with his free hand, causing Anubis' neck to break with a loud crunch as the black dog lets out a yelp with its final breath.

A look of shock forms on Dogen's face. "A-Anubis…?"

Kristoph removes Anubis' jaw from his limp hand, allowing the dog's limp corpse to fall to the ground, as he shakes his head and sneers. "Dogen, Dogen, Dogen… Did you really think that I would be so careless as to not do my homework?" Kristoph condescendingly asks as he snaps his fingers, resulting in his right hand being fully healed. "I've known from the very start that Anubis has always been one of your primary weapons, so I simply pretending to act naïve as I braced myself for an attack."

"But if you knew that, why didn't you just muzzle Anubis at the start of the competition? You didn't have to kill my loyal guide dog!?" Dogen snaps.

"Because this way is much more entertaining… at least for me." Kristoph whimsically replies as he push his glasses up, a scowl forming as the light from the reddish sky reflects off of his spectacles, giving the host of _Debauched Steel_ a more sinister presence. "However, now that I've had my fun, you are no longer needed, Mr. Dogen. Goodbye."

Kristoph snaps his fingers, reducing Dogen to a pile of ashes that is quickly blown away by a passing breeze.

Kristoph turns and grins to the camera. "Well, it seems that the winner of the competition has expired. But you know the old saying, dear viewers: the show must go on; and indeed it shall. That's why I'm going to make an exception to this episode and give the wish to the runner-up."

Kristoph snaps his fingers, causing the second place contestant to appear before him in a puff of smoke- the one and only Shelly de Killer.

"Congratulations, John Doe, on winning _Debauched Steel_. What is your-" Kristoph is stopped mid-sentence as Shelly, without saying a single word, pulls out a pistol and fires a single bullet straight into the deranged television host's heart, killing him instantly as his corpse falls to the ground.

"That." Shelly nonchalantly states as he slips his pistol back into his pocket, approaches Kristoph's corpse, and places one of his infamous calling cards on his latest victim's body.

With his job completed, Shelly calmly walks away from the area; leaving Kristoph's cameraman in a state of dumfounded shock, still filming his employer's fresh corpse as he himself stares at it, before regaining his senses and pushing a button on his camera, causing a picture of Kristoph in his deranged breakdown pose, against a solid grey background, with a caption underneath it that reads 'WE ARE CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES…' to appear on screen for the viewers at home.

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank Aeliren85 for submitting the idea for this chapter.


	10. Pearl

**Name:** Pearl Fey

 **Vehicle:** Her Feet _(This is the girl, who at eight years-old, ran from Kurain Village to the courthouse without breaking a sweat- a trip that takes two hours by train. Granted, we don't know the full details, such as when Pearl started out or if she took any breaks; but for all we know, she left Fey Manor at 7:30 a.m., and with the power of the Phaya, rocked that trip in a little over an hour. Pearly needs no vehicle!)_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 5/5 _(Pearl may be small and dainty, but her unshakable dedication as the ultimate Phaya shipper has given her the resilience and durability of Phoenix dipped in adamantium and given the plot armor of Jar Jar Binks.)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 5/5 _(As stated in her vehicle bio, Pearl is able to tap into the power of the Phaya to give herself running speeds that could make the Flash blush.)_

 **Vehicle Handling:** Tighter than the Tightest of Tights to Ever be Tight _(Pearl is traveling by foot, so she has more control over her vehicle than any of the other contests could ever hope for. Not to mention, Pearl never loses focus of her goals- as seen with how she has been pushing the Phaya for almost ten years straight.)_

 **Special Weapon:** 6/5 _(Slaps- Pearl has slaps that can knock the indestructible Phoenix Wright unconscious- a task that has only been accomplished by a flamboyant elitist wielding a fire extinguisher, being shocked with 600,000 volts of electricity, and a whip fueled by the fury of a defeated von Karma- and that was when she was only nine! At 18, the power of the Phaya has probably given Pearl more strength than Heracles, Samson, Kratos, the Hulk, the Thing, Superman, One-Punch Man, the Kool-Aid Man, and Brock's Chansey combined.)_

 **Bio:** Hello, I'm Pearl Fey, a spirit medium trained in the Kurain Channeling Technique… and I'm angry! Really, really angry! Not because of you- you seem like a very nice, pleasurable person that I could very easily get along with. I'm angry with that big ol' meanie Mr. Gavin! Not only did he break Mr. Nick's spirit for seven years, but he ruined the beautiful progress that I was making in getting Mr. Nick and Mystic Maya happily married in one fell swoop! How dare that awful man deprive Mr. Nick and Mystic Maya of the joy of making a bajillion beautiful babies! Simply put, he decided to break my dreams, so I'm going to break him!

* * *

Unlike with other contestants, who he calmly greets with a warm grin and an air of confidence on the side of the road, Kristoph is busy running for dear life through the corridors of an underground bunker, alarms blaring as a series of large, thick metal doors quickly close behind him, his normal air of confidence and grin replaced with nervous sweat and wide eyes.

When Kristoph makes it to the deepest part of his bunker, he stands of in a corner, his body slightly fidgeting.

"This isn't good! This isn't good! What did I do to evoke the wrath of such a powerful monster!?" Kristoph bemoans as he casts a worried look at the thick steel door that serve as a barrier between himself and the winner of _Debauched Steel_. "Hopefully my steel doors will halt her mad pursuit…" Kristoph takes a deep breath and calms himself down. "Yes, I have nothing to fear. Soon, she will desist and will go home defeated and broken."

Suddenly, in a manner similar to that of the Kool-Aid Man, Pearl, with clenched fists, bursts through the door with a loud crash and glares daggers at Kristoph.

"MR. GAVIN!" Pearl bellows at the top of her lungs, her nostrils flaring like an angry bull, before charging at Kristoph with blinding speed.

Upon seeing the adolescent spirit medium running at him like an angry lioness on the hunt, Kristoph's eyes widen, signifying that this was the exact moment that he realized that he was screwed. "Oh shi-" The host of Debauched Steel tries to scream, but is interrupted by Pearl slapping his stomach, causing his spine to shatter with a loud crack as his body slams against the wall, causing him to become limp and fall to the ground. Though not one to be lenient on her enemies, Pearl grabs Kristoph by the collar of his shirt and lifts him up so that he is at eyelevel with his attacker- terrified blue eyes to grey ones filled with the fiery rage of a thousand suns.

"Heh… Normally people don't get this violent until after I've proven how I'm better than them." Kristoph nervously muses in a futile attempt to calm Pearl down.

Pearl angrily slams Kristoph's head against the wall. "Do you think that this is funny, Mr. Gavin?" Pearl slams Kristoph's head against the wall again, making sure not to slam it too hard- Kristoph needs to thoroughly suffer for his crimes before dying, after all. "After what you did to _me_!?"

"Please… Please be more specific…" Kristoph weakly states as a feeling of grogginess starts to overcome him as a result of his injuries. "When you have ruined… ruined as many lives as I have… they… they all start to blend together."

"How rude, Mr. Gavin!" Pearl shrieks. "I work day and night for two years laying down the groundwork for Mr. Nick and Mystic Maya to get married, and then you come out of nowhere with your forged diary page and ruin everything in the blink of an eye! And because of that incident, Mr. Nick lost his badge and distanced himself from Mystic Maya for seven years to protect her reputation! So for crushing my dreams of Mr. Nick and Mystic Maya getting married and having a bajillion gazillion beautiful lawyer and/or spirit medium babies, I'm going to crush you!" Pearl yells in Kristoph's face.

Kristoph internally shudders at the thought of Phoenix procreating, restoring his senses, before making a grave error with his next question.

"'Mystic Maya'? As in Maya Fey, Wright's assistant?" Kristoph shakes his head. "You must be delusional. From my time posing as Phoenix Wright's friend, whenever we'd discuss former cases of ours, he would describe her as, and I quote, "A good friend who was a loyal assistant who was like a little sister to me. Too bad she wants nothing to do with me since I lost my badge.' Therefore, there was nary a romantic feeling between them."

"Lies! Mr. Nick and Mystic Maya had the kind of romantic chemistry found only in the most lovely of fairytales. Not only did Mr. Nick risk everything to save her from the clutches of that evil assassin guy, but he also ran across a burning bridge for her, bought her all the burgers she could ever want, and defended her in court _three_ times!" Pearl holds up three fingers to emphasize her point. "And you took that all away!" Pearl snarls as she grabs Kristoph's throat, causing him to gasp and sputter as the young spirit medium starts to choke the life out of him.

"Wait!" Kristoph wheezes. "Don't be so quick to kill me!"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't crush your throat like a walnut!" Pearl angrily demands, her grip slightly loosening in order to allow Kristoph to have an easier time speaking.

"Don't forget that as the victor of _Debauched Steel_ , I can grant you a wish… any whish that you could possibly want!"

"Okay…" Pearl cocks her head as she pretends to contemplate her options. "I wish that you were dead!" Pearl yells as her grip on Kristoph's throat tightens.

"Sure, you could grant yourself that wish…" A weak smile spreads across Kristoph's face. "Or if you really want Phoenix Wright and Maya Fey to be married, I could make that a reality. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Yes, but-"

"Granted." Kristoph weakly sneers. However, due to Kristoph using all of his powers to move his head and to resist passing out from the pain coursing through his body, he sticks out his tongue and channels his powers into it, causing it to glow and emit a blinding light.

When the light diminishes, Pearl finds herself standing outside of Phoenix's apartment, where she can hear the distinct mumbling of Phoenix and Maya's voices.

"Mr. Nick…? Mystic Maya…?" Pearl asks as she opens the door, only to be quickly rushed by Maya, who is wearing a pale purple dress and has a black eye, who covers her younger cousin's mouth.

"H-Hey Pearly, what are you doing back so early?" Maya nervously whispers.

"But I just got here, Mystic Maya." Pearl notices Maya's black eye. "Mystic Maya, what happened to your eye?"

"It's nothing, Pearly. I just… got hit with a baseball!" Maya whispers, a nervous smile forming on her face. "But can you please lower your voice. You know how Nick doesn't like excessive noise."

Pearl cocks her head in confusion. "Since when?"

"Ever since he lost his badge and had to get those new jobs. I swear, ever since our wedding, he's-"

"You two got married!" Pearl squeals at the top of her lungs, completely ignoring her cousin's warning. "I just knew you were special someones, Mystic Maya! I knew it! Tell me all about-"

"What the hell is going on in there!? What's with all the yelling!?" Phoenix screams from the other room.

"Oh no…" Maya whimpers as her body starts to tremble. "Now we're really going to get it!"

"Why are you so scared, Mystic Maya? It's just Mr. Nick."

At that moment, Phoenix, who is wearing an outfit identical to Zak Gramarye's magician attire, only in dark blue, and is holding a bottle of grape juice, stumbles into the room as he takes a hearty swig of his beverage.

"What the ****, Maya!? How many times do I have to tell you to keep your bastard cousin quiet? Do I have to beat some freakin' sense into that moron head of hers!?" Phoenix angrily asks as he glares at Pearl while brandishing his grape juice bottle, causing the young spirit medium to hide behind her cousin.

"Yeah, go hide behind your cousin like the big baby you've always been! What's wrong, big baby, you gonna cry?" Phoenix sneers upon noticing Pearl's eyes filling with tears as she pokes her head from behind her older cousin. "Then go on! Cry for me, baby! CRY! Ha ha ha!"

"Stop it, Nick! You have a problem! Every time you drink that grape juice of yours it turns you into a monster!" Maya yells.

"Don't you freakin' tell me what I can and can't do, old girl! I work long and hard as a magician/poker shark to support this damn family, so if I wanna relax with a freakin' bottle of grape juice, then that's what I'm gonna do! Maybe I'll stop drinking my grape juice when _you_ stop stuffing your fat-ass mouth with burgers! How about that!?" Phoenix yells in Maya's face, making sure to use his height advantage to really drive his point home by towering over her, causing the spirit medium to wince.

Finding her courage, Pearl marches up to Phoenix, her face formed into a glare.

"Mr. Nick! How dare you speak to your special someone in such a rude fashion! You'd better apologize to Mystic Maya, or else…!" Pearl rolls up her sleeve and clenches her fist.

"Or else what?" Phoenix asks with a wry smile.

"Or else THIS!" Pearl slaps Phoenix's stomach, which has no effect on the ex-attorney.

Phoenix chuckles as he ruffles Pearl's hair. "You call _that_ a slap? Well, then allow me show you a _real_ slap, old girl!"

Phoenix rears back and slaps Pearl with his grape juice bottle, launching her a foot back and leaving a nasty purple welt on her face, causing her to start crying.

"Serves you right, runt! That's what happens when you mess with someone bigger than you." Phoenix remarks as he starts brandishing his grape juice bottle and starts walking towards Pearl. "Now to finally put you in your place…"

As Phoenix gets closer and closer to Pearl, her mind wants nothing more than to flee from her now-abusive father figure, but her body, frozen in place by fear, won't allow her to move. With Phoenix standing right over her, a sinister, toothy grin spreading across his face as he rears his bottle to deliver the coup de grace, Pearl curls up into a ball, whimpering as she covers her head with her hands in preparation for Phoenix's attack. However, before Phoenix can strike, both he and Pearl are distracted by the sound of a gun being loaded.

Looking in the direction of the noise, Phoenix and Pearl are shocked to see Maya, tears welling up in her eyes, aiming a pistol at Phoenix with a shaky hand.

"Leave Pearly alone, Nick! Leave her alone NOW!" Maya demands as she struggles to hold back her tears.

"Aw, look at you- thinking you're sooo tough with your little pistol." Phoenix sneers as he takes a step towards Maya.

"S-Stay back or… or I'll shoot!" Maya yells.

"Who are you kidding, Maya? We both know that you don't have it in you to shoot a gun, let alone at me, your best friend." Phoenix calmly remarks.

"No. The Nick that I know would never even think of harming me or Pearly. The Nick that I know was a kind, gentle man, not a bully! Where's my husband!?" Maya yells, her face reddening as tears stream down her cheeks. "Where my best friend!?"

"The Nick you knew is gone, Maya- fed-up with being repaid for his kindness with his badge being taken from him and being stuck with a useless little burger glutton like yourself."

"Listen to yourself, Nick! What would my sis think if she saw you now?"

"Ah, Mia…" Phoenix cocks his head upward, giving the ceiling a longing look as he thinks of his late mentor. "Now _she_ was a woman: strong, independent, and attractive; whereas you're like a can of soda that's been left open for a day- bland and flat!"

Maya puffs her cheeks in rage and glowers at Phoenix. "T-Take that back, Nick! Don't forget who's holding the gun!"

"And another thing that Mia had that you don't: follow-through. If she wanted to do something, she'd do it and wouldn't stop until she was done. Whereas you just make a bunch of false promises and then forget them within five minutes."

"I-I do _so_ have follow-through!" Maya pouts.

"Then prove it." Phoenix walks up to Maya with his arms outstretched. "If you really think that I'm a monster, shoot me. I bet that you-"

Phoenix is interrupted by the loud boom of the gun being fired and forever silenced by the bullet piercing his heart. Meanwhile, Pearl just stares wide-eyed at the scene before her- her body stiff and her jaw hanging open as she witnesses the body of the man who was the closest thing to a father figure fall to the ground as crimson blood oozes out of the ex-attorney and stains the room's beige carpet red.

"M-Mystic Maya… What did you…?" Pearl weakly asks, a sorrow tone prevalent in her voice as she witnesses Maya standing over the corpse of her former husband and best friend, her body as still as a statue with unblinking eyes that don't move off of Phoenix's corpse.

Then suddenly, like being hit with a tidal wave, the realization of her actions wash over Maya as she falls to her knees, dropping the gun.

"I'm sorry, Pearl… I'm sorry, Nick…" Maya whimpers with a sniffle as her tears flow forth with no restraint, wetting the carpet.

Pearl gets to her feet and attempts to go over and comfort Maya, but before she can reach her cousin, the sound of sirens can be heard outside the building as several police officers barge into the apartment. Maya, in her current state, fails to acknowledge the officers as two of them lift the emotionally-broken spirit medium on her feet, slap a pair of handcuffs on her wrists, and read her rights to her as they guide her out of the apartment. All the while, Pearl tries to plead with the officers to let her cousin go, but they choose to ignore her- leaving the adolescent girl in the one situation that she had feared for as long as she could remember: alone and unloved.

And so, with only the corpse of Phoenix to keep her company, Pearl begins to cry, her wails of sadness filling the air in a similar fashion to the wails of the sirens of the police cars that are taking the woman whom she thought of as her mother away from her forever.

Outside the apartment complex, Kristoph, who has managed to fully heal himself, watches the situation with a sinister smirk. "All's well that ends well, am I right?" Kristoph sneers at the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank Aria and Clive for submitting the idea for this chapter.


	11. Wocky

**A/N:** Warning! The following chapter contains Wocky Kitaki, which has been linked to severe cases of Wocky Madness- symptoms of which include, but are not limited to: sore neck, eye twitches, the urge to punch something, bouts of extreme rage upon hearing the letter "G" or the word "bizzoy", and a red handprint-shaped mark on the center of the forehead. If you experience any of the following symptoms, please consult your doctor immediately.

In all seriousness, this chapter was a blast for me to write and I hope you guys like it more than my spell check did.

* * *

 **Name:** Wocky Kitaki

 **Vehicle:** His Whip _(A.k.a. a Mercedes-Benz, complete with 19" gold chrome alloy wheels and speakers loud enough to break every window in a five mile radius. It's gangsta, fo shizzle!)_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 3/5 _(A G's got to have protection, both on the road and in the bedroom, but not too much if they want to maintain their rep, na mean?)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 4/5 _("My whip's as fast as I am when pleasuring a shorty in the sack, fo shizzle!" … That's what Wocky wanted us to put as the description for his vehicle's speed. We tried to convince him that's not something to brag about and to choose something different, but he was persistent on having it. Hey, it's his reputation.)_

 **Vehicle Handling:** Tight _(Wocky likes his whip like he likes his women: tight.)_

 **Special Weapon:** 4/5 _(Rap Album- Whenever Wocky blares a cd containing his OG raps through his speakers, all the nearby drivers go mad and crash their vehicles. Wocky doesn't understand why this happens, but their lack of taste means an easy win for him.)_

 **Bio:** Yo, yo, yo! What up, homies? The name's Wocky Kitaki, and I'm gangsta! Word is the MC's straight-up hardcore and done time in the pen; but I ain't afraid. I'm a Kitaki, and we Kitakis step hard and fierce, na mean? My ma has a katana hidden in her broom _and_ she takes TWO free samples instead of one when we go grocery shoppin'! That's right, my ma's straight-up gangsta; but she ain't nothin' compared to me, Wocky Kitaki- the most OG baller to ever live. And once I win this show, everyone on this blue marble's gonna know that, too, fo shizzle!

* * *

As Kristoph sits on his usual bench, waiting for the winner of _Debauched Steel_ to claim their prize, he glowers down the road, his arms crossed and left eye twitching, as he hears what is probably intended to be music, but sounds more like a cat being beaten to death with a turntable, getting louder as he sees a Mercedes-Benz approaching him; the horrendous 'lyrics', if one could even call those incoherent phrases that, going as follows…

 _Yo yo, yooooo!_

 _My name is Wocky,_

 _OG in charge._

 _Roamin' round the hood with a homie,_

 _Livin' large an' large._

 _Always bein' gangsta around the clock._

 _When bustas go around makin' fools of my boys,_

 _I shoot 'em in the gut with my trusty glock._

 _When hoes get outta line, I break 'em like toys._

 _A'yo, a'yo, a'yo yo yo!_

 _A'yo, a'yo, a'yo yo yo!_

 _Dumped a ho named Alita,_

 _Girl was all talk,_

 _Personality stunk like rotten Velveeta._

 _My pops' always getting on my grill callin' me brash an' cocky,_

 _But I just shrug my shoulders and say "I'm OG Wocky!"_

 _A'yo, a'yo, a'yo yo yo!_

 _A'yo, a'yo, a'yo yo yo!_

 _A'yo, a'yo, a'yo yo yoooooooooooo!_

"Wocky Kitaki is in the house, bizzoy!" The wannabe gangster yells at the top of his lungs as he jumps out of his vehicle, obnoxiously beatboxing as he walks towards Kristoph.

"Congratulations on your victory, Wocky Kitaki. As the winner of _Debauched Steel_ you…" Kristoph growls as he notices that Wocky is not paying any attention to him, instead focusing on his beatboxing. "Wocky!" Kristoph snaps.

"Boop boop bop, boop-boop boop bop…" Wocky huffs, making more hand gestures than a deaf air traffic controller.

"Wocky!" Kristoph yells.

"Boo boo boo boooo-oooooo boodie boo boooooooooo…."

"Wocky!" Kristoph growls through clenched teeth, his patience clearly running out.

"Booooooo-oooooo, booooooo-oooooo, boo boo boo boo boo boo boo booooooo… boo-" Wocky is interrupted by Kristoph slapping him in the back of the head with a bottle of grape juice that he just spawned in. "Hey, man! What's your problem?! Messin with my sick beats like that!" Wocky snaps as he rubs the back of his head.

"For just that reason, your 'rap' and 'beatboxing' were sick, and by 'sick', I am referring to its proper definition which is to feel nauseous." Kristoph retorts.

Much to Kristoph confusion, Wocky starts rapidly spreading his arms out and crossing them across his chest, making the wannabe thug resemble a bird attempting to take flight.

"Yo man, don't go dissin' on what yo mind's missin'! You hearin' what I'm layin' down, bizzoy?!" The wannabe punk yells.

"Unfortunately, yes… as well as everyone in a four-state radius!" Kristoph wryly sneers.

Wocky puts his hands to his hips, leaning forward to make himself look assertive. "Hey, my rap was tight and that song I was beatboxin' was part of my childhood, fruit loop!"

Kristoph pushes his glasses up, partially covering his mouth. "And like you, it was obnoxious and migraine-inducing."

"You tryin' to fight me!? You tryin' to fight me!? I'm Wocky Kitaki! I'm so gangsta that I go out swimming less than an hour after I eat; I sometimes have a snack right before dinner; _AND_ when I pass by a 'take a penny, leave a penny' tray, I take a penny without buying anything. So if you plan on stepping to me, you're gonna be getting my foot up yo ass!"

Kristoph brandishes his grape juice bottle. "'Step' to me, Wocky, and you'll be getting my grape juice bottle wedged into your skull."

"EH! You lost the right to call me by my first name when you went all up dissin' ma swag beats! So now you'll be referrin' to me by my gangsta name: OG Bling-Bing Crackshot! You! Understand! G-man!?" Wocky pokes Kristoph's chest with each punctuation, causing the host of _Debauched Steel_ to snarl.

"Perhaps you don't understand what situation you're in, _Wocky_ … If you don't make your wish in the next 30 seconds, I'll ram this bottle so far up your rectum that I'll be able to pull it out of your mouth!" Kristoph points the grape juice bottle at Wocky, his arm shaking with rage.

Wocky crosses his arms, his face sullen with defeat as his glance moves off to the side, away from the enraged ex-attorney.

"Whatever, homes. I'll play along; but not 'cause you told me to, but 'cause I ain't got time to waste on bustas like you…" Wocky puts his hands on his hips and leans forward as his temperament becomes more energetic. "I wanna be the most G OG baller to ever be in the G-game! I wanna be in a universe where I'm the most gangsta gangsta there ever was. You readin' me, G-man?"

"For once, I think that we're on the same page, Wocky." Kristoph sneers before raising his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light.

When the light diminishes, Wocky finds himself in a completely silent space that is entirely black for as far as the eye can see, with nary a person or object for miles around.

"Yo, homes, where am I? This place ain't G!" Wocky complains as he scans his surroundings.

"I beg to differ, Wocky…" Kristoph telepathically tells Wocky. "This is Dimension W-11, a universe where wannabe gangsters like you are sent when they wish to be the most 'gangsta'."

"But there ain't nothing here!"

"Exactly. Well, have fun 'OG Bling-Bling Crackshot'…" Kristoph sneers.

"Hey! I ain't done with you, bizzoy! … G-man, you there? … Damnit!" Wocky stomps his foot. "Man, what now?"

Wocky hears a strange hip-hop song coming from the distance; sounding faint, but slowly growing louder as a man with frizzy white hair, a pair of golden sunglasses resting on his forehead, wearing a grey windbreaker with an undershirt underneath it, a thick gold chain with a large 'S' attached to it, grey pants, and white tennis shoes struts up to him.

"The hated boss who beats you down, and beats you down, and never lets up… Yeah. Big bad Guzma is here!" The man smugly states with his hands on his hips as he leans forward.

Wocky imitates Guzma by putting his hands on his own hips and leaning forward. "Man, you ain't tough! You some Doc Brown knockoff! Now why don't you get on back in your ugly-ass car-time machine and get outta here before I whop yo sorry ass!"

Guzma starts flashing enough hand signs to give even Wocky a run for his money. "Shut your stupid mouth, you dumb kid! You know who you're messing with? I'm destruction in human form- I'm ya boy Guzma!"

"Hey! I ain't your boy, bizzoy!" Wocky yells.

"Well, I ain't your bizzoy, dawg!" Guzma retorts.

"Oh, so you think I'm your dawg? 'Cause I ain't, G!"

"Look who's talking. I ain't your G, homes!"

"You ain't my homes, bitch!"

Guzma puffs out his chest. "Oh, so now I'm your bitch!? Well let me tell you something, kid, I ain't yo-" Guzma is interrupted by Wocky pulling out his gun and aiming it at the older thug.

"You are now, bitch! Get on the ground with yo hands over yo head or I'll pop a cap in yo ass!" Wocky yells.

Guzma laughs. "You really are dumb, kid…" The thug takes a baseball-sized red and white ball out of his pocket and throws it into the air, summoning a large grey and purple bipedal, hunched-over arthropod insectoid creature with two large arms to his side. "Golisopod, use First Impression!"

The creature rams Wocky with blinding speed, knocking the wannabe gangster to the ground before quickly returning to Guzma's side.

Wocky, being the persistent little bugger he is, doesn't hesitate to get back up on his feet and aim his gun at Golisopod. "You think that some overgrown bug'll keep a G like me down? I'm gan-"

"Sucker Punch, now!" Guzma orders, prompting Golisopod to rush over to Wocky and start repeatedly punching the wannabe punk, causing him to scream in pain before returning to its trainer's side and leaving Wocky lying on the ground battered and bruised- his injuries including a black eye, several lumps on the top of his head, and a few missing teeth.

Wocky, mustering all of his strength, slowly gets back on his feet, and with much effort and a shaky arm, aims his gun at Golisopod and fires three bullets at the creature, making sure to yell "Bang!" with each shot; but Wocky's attack proves useless as the bullets just bounce off Golisopod's thick shell, not even fazing the creature, which causes Guzma to let out a hearty chuckle.

" _That_ was your attack? Ha! I've seen Farfetch'd do more with False Swipe. Now normally I'd just keep beating you down, and down, and down, but I'm feeling merciful today, so I'll just put you out of your misery. Golisopod…!" Guzma performs a strange dance. "Savage Spin-Out!"

Golisopod is surrounded by a yellow aura as it fires a stream of webbing out of its mandibles, engulfing Wocky in a sticky web cocoon. The large insect then follows up by using the string of web connecting its mandibles to Wocky's web cocoon to lift the wannabe gangster's prison into the air before slamming it hard into the ground, creating a small crater upon impact; then proceeding to throw the cocoon into the air again before ramming it at full-speed, causing it to shatter. Freed from his prison, Wocky, whose body has been mangled beyond belief, plummets to the ground, where upon landing, his limbs twitch, similar to that of a crushed insect, before becoming motionless as the life drains out of his body.

"Good job, Golisopod." Guzma calls Golisopod back to its pokeball before sauntering over to Wocky's corpse, grinning at his handiwork. "That's what happens when you mess with ya boy Guzma, you stupid kid! You get beat down!"

Meanwhile, back in the _Ace Attorney_ universe, Kristoph laughs and shakes his head as he watches Guzma lording over Wocky's corpse in Dimension W-11 from a portable monitor before turning to face the camera.

"Remember, kids, no matter how good you think you are there's always a bigger fish… or in this case, a bigger bug." Kristoph sneers. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank JordanPhoenix for submitting the idea for this chapter.


	12. Grey

**Name:** Turner Grey

 **Vehicle:** Jeep Wrangler _(A long-lasting, highly-customizable vehicle owned by the most discerning, levelheaded of intellectuals… but is mostly driven by short-tempered egomaniacs.)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 4/5 _(Maybe if the incompetent traffic reporter wasn't as unreliable as the weather girl when it comes to reporting the traffic flow in his general area, Grey wouldn't have to burn rubber to get to his clinic on time.)_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 5/5 _(As stated above, when Grey is deceived by that lousy new station and is late for work, all Hell breaks loose. That's why he's modified his jeep to plow through traffic unscathed like a snowplow through snow.)_

 **Vehicle Handling:** Sluggish _(Despite what Grey thinks, his vehicle is a jeep, not a racecar. It's not designed to take sharp turns at speeds exceeding 60 mph.)_

 **Special Weapon:** 3/5 _(Ram of Anger- Grey's anger somehow grows even greater, motivating him to relentlessly ram into opposing vehicles until the unfortunate contestants are dead. A simple, yet effective, attack.)_

 **Bio:** *grumble, grumble…* The nerve of that woman… I'll show her- What!? You think it's wrong that a grown man like me is talking to himself? Well, normally a man of my status would take offense to that, but I don't have time to waste on the likes of you. I have bigger fish to fry in the form of vengeance… What? You say that motive's been done to death? Nonsense! My vengeance is more significant and righteous than that of the average man, for I seek to personally destroy a woman who has caused me so much pain with my bare hands! Vengeance will be mine!

* * *

Kristoph disembarks from his just-landed dirigible, ready to greet and honor the victor of _Debauched Steel_ with almost any prize that they can think of- the winner, Dr. Turner Grey, who is standing on the side of the road, impatiently tapping his foot and scowling at Kristoph.

"You're five minutes late." Grey curtly greets Kristoph.

"I'm sorry, but-"

"Well, you should be! Do you know who I am?!" Grey yells with his left hand tensed as if he is trying to squeeze the life out of something.

"A rude, short-tempered man?" Kristoph wryly retorts.

"Ha, ha! _Very_ funny! For your information, Goldilocks, I'm a saint compared to you! I'm a surgeon who saves people's lives on a daily basis. Let's see you top that."

Kristoph grins at the surgeon. "I jest, I jest, Dr. Grey, I know who you are. So what is your wish? To have your reputation restored? To have the grey taken out of your hair? A free anger management session at the Y?" The host of _Debauched Stee_ l sneers.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Mr. Gavin." Grey calmly responds as he pushes up his glasses. "I just want one thing: Revenge; just desserts; cold, unrestrained retribution!"

"So you want to get back at Mimi Miney, the nurse who you believe ruined your clinic and your murderer?"

"Mr. Gavin, that nurse was nothing compared to the woman I'm referring to. No, this woman is a scourge to every man, woman, and child in the greater Los Angeles area as she ruins lives in mere seconds! Every day she pollutes the airwaves of our fine city with wretched, filthy lies! I'm talking about the weather girl!"

Kristoph cocks his head in confusion. "The… weather girl?"

"Yes, a.k.a. Renee Daye of Channel 23 News. That woman has been an accursed thorn in my side for too long! 'It's going to be raining cats and dogs out there today, so bring an umbrella with you!' she says, forcing me to carry around a useless umbrella while there's not a single cloud in the sky! 'I think our little rainy spell will take a break with a day of sun!' she says, ruining my $1,500 suit in a torrent rain that would give both Noah and his ark a run for their money! How dare that shyster call herself a weather girl! 'Oh, look at me! I'm Renee Daye and I only got this job because I wear revealing blouses and dance around like the Whore of Babylon! I don't know the difference between sun and rain! Dur! Dur! DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUR!'"

Kristoph slowly takes a step back away from the irate surgeon with his hands held out in front of him. "Perhaps you should take a few deep breaths and calm yourself, yes?"

"Calm down? NEVER! That blasted weather girl has been the mastermind behind every worldwide issue in the past decade: increasing gas prices, global warming, the Doritos Locos Taco…! Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Miney ruined my business and killed me because she was bribed by Daye to strike down the only person in this damn city to know the truth about her! I even managed to link her to the Hindenburg incident! You see, the ropes that were used on the Hindenburg were- Hey! Get back here! You still haven't granted my wish!" Grey yells, shaking his fist, as he notices Kristoph boarding his dirigible.

"Sorry, Dr. Grey, but we here at _Debauched Steel_ have the right to refuse wishes to the mentally ill. Ta-ta." Kristoph waves at Grey as he prepares to close the dirigible's door.

"Am I really so crazy, Gavin? Haven't you ever met someone who has caused you nothing but pain and misery? A person who'd drive you to do anything just to see them suffer an agonizing death?"

Kristoph pauses as he drifts off into his favorite daydream: him repeatedly beating Phoenix over the head with a giant hammer, like something out of a cartoon, as the sun, which has a creepy, toothy smile not unlike that of Aristotle Means', sings _Happy Days are Here Again!_.

Grey notices that Kristoph is completely motionless. "Gavin, are you alright?"

Kristoph shakes his head, snapping himself back into reality. "… Granted."

Kristoph raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light.

* * *

In the Channel 23 station, a fair-skinned woman with her raven hair styled in a large bun, wearing a rather revealing navy blouse and a matching skirt that shows off a generous amount of leg, is standing in front of a large map of LA which is covered with a large sun.

"Get out your frying pans, folks, because it's hot enough to fry an egg out there! I'm Renee Daye, wishing you a day that's as nice as the sky is cloudless!" The weather girl cheerfully states with a smile on her face.

"Cut! That's a wrap!" The studio's director and owner, a chubby man with a pencil mustache and goatee who is wearing a black beret, yells as a buzzer briefly goes off.

As soon as she knows that the cameras aren't filming, Renee's smile morphs into a look of irritation as she heads over to and sits in a chair with her name on it before a young intern hands her a bottle of fancy mineral water.

"Good job, Daye! You really knocked it out of the park today." The director states.

"Oh please, it's nothing." Renee gloats, smirking as she takes a sip of her water. "The idiots who watch me will believe anything if you through a pair of breasts and legs their way. Sure, I started off my career wanting to give good, accurate reports; but I soon learned that it's more fun to tell them the exact opposite of what's happening out there." The weather girl tries her best to control her laughter. "Like-like today, those morons think that it's warm and sunny, but… heh heh heh… it's actually cloudy with a high of 20 degrees Fahrenheit and wind speeds of 16 mph! Hahaha!" Renee covers her eyes as she bursts out laughing, having lost the battle to maintain her composure, prompting the director to shake his head and start laughing as well.

"Oh, you are so _baaad_!"

Renee regains her composure. "I know, I know… But who's going to stop me? Those horny morons who watch me? They may be dumb, but they're not dumb enough to get their eye candy canned!" Renee gloats, her arms crossed over her ample bosom.

"Yeah, you'd have to live a sad, empty life if your main concern's the weather." The director adds, breathing a sigh of contentment. "I love my job!"

"Amen to that!" Renee chimes in, raising her bottle of water, as she and the director burst out into laughter.

Suddenly, the duo's happy time is cut short by the studio's doors being blasted off their hinges and being thrown across the room with a loud boom, followed by the entranceway filling with smoke.

"What's going on here!?" The director yells as he and Renee spring to their feet.

From the cloud of smoke, a pair of white eyes created by a glare being cast off a pair of glasses becomes visible as they form into a scowl.

"My revenge…" The smoke dissipates, revealing the owner of the eyes to be Grey, who is much more muscular than he originally was and is wearing a one-piece brown leather outfit with a glaring sun placed in its center and a matching brown cape. Grey's hair, instead of its normal skunk tail look, is style in the shape of a lightning bolt. "For I am Dr. Weather!"

"What the hell are you going on about, you crazy geezer!? You're gonna be hearing about this from my lawyers when they make you cough up the money to repair my studio!" The director yells, his hands clenched as if he's about to strangle Grey.

"Not before that hussy pays for the $1,500 suit she ruined with her shoddy reports!" Grey objects, pointing at Renee.

"How on earth did I ruin your suit? I don't even know you. And trust me; I think that I'd remember if I saw a freak like you running around town." The weather girl sneers.

"June 16th, 2017." Grey sternly states.

Renee cocks her head in confusion. "What?"

"June 16th, 2017, the day you ruined my suit. 'I think our little rainy spell will take a break with a day of sun!' you said! And because of that, I didn't bring an umbrella with me that day and my suit was _drenched_! Drenched I say!" Grey yells, clenching his fist.

"So what do you want me to do about it? Send you an 'I'm sorry' card because you were too thick to look out the window?"

"No, I want you to feel the same pain that I felt!" Grey hisses with a venomous tone.

"And just how do you plan-" Before Renee can react, Grey fires a torrent of water from his hand at her, engulfing the weather girl and slamming her against the wall on the far side of the room.

When Grey finishes his attack, Renee notices that her attire is completely drenched.

"Argh!" Renee screams. "You idiot! You've ruined my outfit! Do you know how much it cost me!?"

"Ha-ha! Now the proverbial shoe's on the other foot, Daye! Wet, cold, and uncomfortable, isn't it?" Grey sneers.

"Why you…!" Renee snarls before charging full speed at Grey, screeching as she extends her arms out in front of her.

However, before the weather girl can reach the surgeon-turned-superhero, Grey fires a powerful burst of wind from his hands, sending Renee flying through the studio's wall and outside the building.

"Screw this, I'm outta here!" The director proclaims as he runs out the destroyed door as fast as he can.

Grey walks through the newly-created hole to find Renee mustering all her energy in an attempt to crawl away from her assailant.

"You know what the difference between me and you is, Daye? When I say it's sunny, it's actually sunny!"

Grey clenches his fist, causing the clouds above Renee to part as a powerful beam of concentrated sunlight engulfs her as she screams in terror. When the attack ends, Grey sees that Renee has been reduced to a mere pile of ash, which he then proceeds to get rid of by summoning a light gust of wind to blow it away.

"That'll teach you for spouting lies about the weather… Now onto the next wrongdoer on my vengeance list: The Channel 23 traffic reporter, Russ Doure. 'Marblock Street today will be like driving through a ghost town!' Bah! Lies! Filthy Lies, I say! That road was more packed than a can of sardines! I swear, how these jokers even get on television is beyond me!" Grey grumbles to himself as he marches back into the studio through the hole in the wall that he created.

A little ways outside the studio, Kristoph watches the situation and starts softly singing to himself. "The sun will come out tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, there'll be retribution..." Kristoph stops singing and grins at the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."


	13. Edgeworth

**Name:** Miles Edgeworth

 **Vehicle:** Red Porsche Boxster _(Edgeworth's knows what you're thinking and would like to point out that the Boxster is_ _ **not**_ _a chick car. The people who say so are merely jealous that they can't afford one themselves.)_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 3/5 _(Edgeworth would like to think that he doesn't need so much defense, but it would be highly illogical to take the risk.)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 4/5 _(Edgeworth likes a speedy car as much as the next guy, but he's a gentleman, not some headstrong speed demon looking out only for himself. Does he look like Franziska?)_

 **Vehicle Handling:** Very Tight _(This is Edgeworth we're talking about. If he's willing to spend money on a custom-made chess board to reflect his courtroom rivalry, then he's more than willing to buy the best handling for his car that money can buy.)_

 **Special Weapon:** 5/5 _(Logic Chess- Edgeworth emits a strange energy throughout the arena that increases or decreases the vehicle stats of the other contestants in relation to how logical they are on a day-to-day basis; which, given the history of Edgeworth's world, sadly makes this a very effective power.)_

 **Bio:** Greetings, my name is Miles Edgeworth, the chief prosecutor of the Los Angeles Prosecutor's Office. My job is to protect the people of my city by assigning the right prosecutor to a case, in addition to routing out all corruption I come across in both the Prosecutor's Office and Precinct. In fact, did you know that I am the first chief prosecutor at my office in the last 30 years who wasn't corrupt and/or being manipulated in some way, shape, or form? Sad, I know… If you want any specific details on just how bad it was, it can all be explained in two words: Blaise Debeste. The man not only freely permitted the use of false evidence and sullied the sanctity of the plea bargain, but also stole evidence to sell on the black market, killed or incarcerated all who would oppose him, and even partook in the assignation of a nation's president. And if that wasn't enough, years after his arrest, he was given strange powers out of the blue that he has used to torture so many innocent people for a sick television show- me, in particular! But as much as I'd like to get back at that sick, vile man, with Blaise's powers at his disposal, Gavin is the much bigger threat. Normally, I wouldn't think of partaking in a competition like this for even a moment, but after I win, it'll be like this whole nightmare never happened.

* * *

Kristoph stands off to the side of the road, his arms casually crossed with a warm, yet calm, smile on his face, a direct contrast to the cold glare and furrowed brow of the magenta-cladded prosecutor standing before him. For a few tense seconds, the two lawyers just stare into each other's eyes with nary a blink, like two cowboys in the Old West awaiting for the right moment to pull out their guns and duel to the death- the Demon Prosecutor and the Coolest Defense in the West, two legal powerhouses of contrasting morals standing face-to-face; both so different, yet scarily so similar.

The scene is scarily silent, the only source of noise created by a faint breeze that causes Kristoph's braid to gently blow in the wind like windsock. Eventually, after what feels like an eternity and a half, the host of _Debauched Steel_ decides to be the one to break the ice.

"Glad to see that you're not one to let gender stereotypes dictate your choice of car, Mr. Edgeworth." Kristoph lightheartedly muses as he looks over at Edgeworth's sports car.

Edgeworth glowers at Kristoph. "And just what is _that_ supposed to mean, Gavin?"

Kristoph shakes his head. "I mean no offense, Edgeworth. It's just that you're driving a Boxster, and-"

"Hold it!" Edgeworth yells while assertively pointing at the grinning host. "I am sick and tired of people assuming that the Boxster is a chick car, a rainbow ride, or a 'muff wagon', as Prosecutor Blackquill so eloquently put it! Sure, it may not scream 'muscle car' with its less-powerful engine, sleeker lines, and smaller size; and it may or may not have come with a strawberry-scented air freshener and a Care Bear windshield plush; but it is by no means a car made exclusively for females. In fact, I'll have you know that my former mentor and adoptive father, the infamous prosecutor Manfred von Karma, himself suggested this car to me." Edgeworth brags, a smirk on his face and his arms haughtily spread outwards.

"And out of curiosity, did your mentor also suggest that you wear that pink suit as well?" Kristoph sneers.

"First off, see this suit?" Edgeworth huffs, gesturing to his attire. "It's clearly maroon, not pink! Yet why is it that every single person that I come across labels it as pink? Are they color blind? Are they daft?!"

"No, we just find it amusing to see you get into a tizzy over it- much like how young children love to ring doorbells before running off." Kristoph replies.

"And secondly, while it is true that von Karma chose this suit color for me, saying that it complimented my form and went with my eyes, that has no bearing on our current situation. I'm here for one thing and one thing only, Gavin, and that's my prize for winning your competition- one free wish of my choosing!"

"Very well then, Edgeworth. What _is_ your wish?" Kristoph nonchalantly asks with a slightly sinister undertone.

Edgeworth smirks as he smugly spreads out his arms. "Not so fast, Gavin. I'm onto your little tricks."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb with me, Gavin. Practically everyone else in our world may not be able to see the forest through the trees, but not me! I know that the second I make my wish, you'll twist my words and make it backfire on me. That's right, I know your game and I'm going to win it."

"Ah, but in order win a game, you must first play it. So, what's your move?"

"I wish that everything was the way it used to be before all of this madness ever happened." Edgeworth proudly states.

"Oh no! Miles Edgeworth has discovered my Achilles heel! Whatever am I supposed to do?" Kristoph sarcastically comments in an over-the-top fashion which goes right over Edgeworth's head.

"Checkmate." Edgeworth sneers. "Now make it so!"

A grin spreads across Kristoph's face. "As you wish…" Kristoph raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light.

When the light diminishes, Edgeworth finds himself in a large holding cell.

"Where am I…?" Edgeworth asks in a higher-pitched voice. "And why does my voice sound like it did when I was a child?"

"Why don't you tell us, Edgeworth?" A child-like voice asks from behind Edgeworth, which- upon turning around- he discovers belongs to Phoenix, who has been turned into a nine year-old version of himself and is standing next to a nine year-old Larry.

"Wright? Larry? Why are you kids? And why are we so short?" Edgeworth asks, just realizing that they are much smaller than normal.

"Why don't you look in the mirror, Edgeworth..." Phoenix groans, pointing to a mirror that is hanging on the wall off to the side.

Edgeworth walks over to the mirror and shrieks upon seeing that he, too, is a child and is dressed in the outfit that he wore before he was adopted into the von Karma family.

"I-I don't understand this! My wish was flawless! Gavin should have returned everything to the way things used to be like I asked!"

"Return things to…!" Phoenix slaps his forehead. "Oh, Kristoph gave you what you asked for, Edgeworth. He returned things to the way they were- by making US kids again! Not even Larry would make such an obvious blunder!"

"Hey! Don't drag me down to Edgey's level! I may have messed up in the past, but that's nothing compared to this!" Larry objects.

"Well chastising me about will change nothing. Look, I've made a mistake, but I've learned from it. Will you guys please forgive me so that we can put this behind us?" Edgeworth pleads with his friends who are glowering at him.

"Well sorry's not gonna restore my dating rep!" Larry angrily retorts.

"Larry, wanting your track record with women is like wanting a criminal record with a seat on death row. If anything, I did you a favor on that one." Edgeworth sneers.

"Oh yeah, because nine year-old boys are a real turn-on for women!" Larry states with clenched fists.

"As for me, thanks to your _incredible_ foresight, I've lost what little respect Maya had for me and she refuses to take me seriously." Phoenix complains.

"You're being ridiculous, Wright. Maya would never do that to you."

Suddenly, as if on cue, Maya runs over to little Phoenix and pinches his cheek, causing him to wince in pain.

"Aw! Who has pinchable cheeky-weekies? You do! You do!" Maya states in a sweet, cutesy tone of voice.

"Stop it, Maya! Don't forget which one of us pays the bills." Phoenix states as he removes Maya's fingers from his cheek.

Maya giggles as she ruffles the little attorney's spikey hair. "Of course you do, little guy! Now who's gonna buy me lots of burgers? You are! You are!" The spirit medium chirps as she knells down and subjects Phoenix to the tightest hug to end all tight hugs. "DAWWW! You are _soooo_ CUTE!

"Get off me, Maya." Phoenix wheezes as he struggles to breathe.

"I could just eat you up! Yes I could! Nomnomnomnom!" Maya chirps, wriggling her face in Phoenix's hair as if she's trying to eat him.

With an angry grunt, Phoenix somehow manages to push his suddenly-doting assistant off of him.

"Maya, despite my appearance, I am _not_ a child! So can you please stop treating me as such? Or at the very least, do it to Edgeworth."

"Some friend you are." Edgeworth bitterly states.

"Well you're one who caused this mess, so _you're_ the one who should be punished, not me!" Phoenix retorts.

"Aw! Looks like someone's a Mr. Grumpy-Pants! Are you a Mr. Grumpy-Pants? Do you need a nappy-wappy? Do you want me to cradle you in my bosom?" Maya chirps as she gets back up on her feet.

"Yes, please!" Larry jovially proclaims with a big, goofy grin on his face.

"'Nappy-wappy'? C'mon, Maya, I'm not _that_ -" Phoenix is interrupted by Maya grabbing the back of his head and shoving it into her bosom.

"Shhh… Just ride the Sleepy-Time Express off to Slumber Land as I serenade you with the greatest song ever created…" Maya whispers, stroking Phoenix's hair as he struggles in vain to free himself.

The perky spirit medium then proceeds to softly hum the _Steel Samurai_ theme song as Phoenix flails his arms and yells "Objection!" several times, which come out muffled due to where his head is currently located.

Larry blushes and starts slowly waving. "You know, Maya, I'm also feeling pretty tired. Mind singing me a lullaby after you're done with Nick?"

Though much to Larry's disappointment, Maya ignores him and continues serenading poor Phoenix.

Edgeworth rolls his eyes. "Just when I thought that you couldn't get more anymore pathetic, Larry…"

Larry flashes Edgeworth a thumbs-up. "Hey, when life gives you lemons, make milkshakes!"

"That makes no-" Edgeworth is cut off by Kay running up behind him and giving him a hug, squeeing as she nestles the crook of her chin on top of her boss' head. "Not you too, Kay…" The child prosecutor groans.

"I just can't help it, Mr. Edgeworth! You're just so cute- what with your little suit and bowtie. You're like a little penguin!" Kay chirps.

Edgeworth growls. "I am not a penguin, Kay. I am a prosecutor who strikes fear in even the most hardened of criminals, not some cuddle toy for you to coo over. I am the Demon Prosecutor, for goodness sake!"

"Yeah, the Demon Prosecutor of Cuteness!" Kay squeezes Edgeworth a bit tighter. "Now we have to find you a new career! Yes we do!" Kay says, rubbing her cheek against her boss' hair.

"What are you talking about, Kay? I'm still perfectly capable of prosecuting."

"A sweet, little guy like you prosecuting? Those mean attorneys would chew you up and spit you out like bubblegum! No, we need to find you a nice, safe career. I know! You can be my full-time assistant!"

"No." Edgeworth growls.

"C'mon, think about it! You'll be really helping my cause- you can crawl through spaces too small for me to fit through _and_ drum up good PR for me with that adorable little face of yours. You could be, um…" Kay cocks her head as she tries to think of a cool thief name for little Edgeworth. "Oh, I got! I got it! You can be, drumroll please…" Larry, with his tongue sticking out, slaps his stomach like a drum. "the assistant who soars under the wing of the Great Thief Yatagarasu, the Great Thief Chick-Chick!"

"'Chick-Chick'? What kind of lazy, uninspired name is Chick-Chick?" Edgeworth complains.

"The kind of name that I came up with in ten seconds. Plus, it's a fitting name for a cute little guy like you that helps to serve as a good contrast to the gruff, hardened image of the Yatagarasu."

"Kay, you're a small, bubbly, young woman who dresses in pink and is always smiling. You are the exact opposite of 'gruff and hardened'. Now, can _please_ let me go? My back is starting to feel sore." Edgeworth requests.

"I am when compared to your current cuteness. You're so sweet that ants would carry you off to their nest if I wasn't holding onto you. And that's before I have you fitted into a chick costume! Afterwards, you'll be the cutest thing to ever cute!" Kay coos. "And until you agree to be the Great Thief Chick-Chick, I am not letting go of you and that's final!"

"The day I become Chick-Chick is the day that I choose to take an elevator and give Gumshoe a living salary." Edgeworth growls.

"Then I'm not letting go!" Kay states as she squeezes Edgeworth even harder.

As this is happening, Larry is grinning with excitement. "All right! If Nick and Edgey are getting this much attention, then I should be mobbed by girls any minute now!" Larry spreads out his arms and closes his eyes. "All right, ladies, I'm ready. Shower me with your endless love!" The little wannabe Casanova proclaims. "Ladies, didn't you hear me? I said that I'm ready." Larry states after waiting a few seconds. "Ladies…?" The boy asks as he opens his eyes, only to find that no women are mobbing him. "What the hell!? Why aren't the hot ladies mobbing me? I'm a hundred times cuter than Nick and Edgey combined!" Larry pouts.

Larry looks over and sees Franziska standing against a wall off to the side, reading a book as she minds her business.

"Hello, Franzy…" Larry says to himself as a grin spreads across his face before walking over to Franziska and tugging on her skirt, prompting her to look down at him with a look of irritation.

"I'm not in the mood for your foolishness, Larry Butz. Please leave my sight."

"But Franzy, don't you think I'm cute as a kid?" Larry asks, widening his eyes in an attempt to make himself look as adorable as possible.

"Larry Butz, I don't care if you're a kid, a young adult, or even a shriveled-up old man on his deathbed. To me, you will always be the most foolishly foolish fool to ever be foolish in the land of foolishly foolish fools who act foolish. And if I didn't have moral qualms with whipping children, you would be on the receiving end of many a lashing. Now as I said before, please leave me alone."

A scowl spreads across Larry's face, his brow becoming furrowed and his nostrils flaring. "No!"

A look of shock forms on Franziska's face, not expecting this sniveling, foolish, pathetic man with the backbone of a chocolate éclair to ever talk back to her.

"What did you say to me?" Franziska sternly asks, making sure to keep her composure.

"You heard me! I said 'No'!" Larry snaps. "For too long, I have been Mr. Nice-Guy to every girl that I meet and have had my heart stomped into the ground; but I've always managed to dust myself off, thinking that maybe next time will be different. But when I see Nick and Edgey getting doted over like they're the hottest thing since sliced bread, that is where I draw the line! I'm cute! I'm a good dresser! I'm a nice person! But yet I'm alone while Nick and Edgey get hot girls! Where are my hot girls!? Huh? HUH!?"

Franziska closes her book and slowly takes a few steps off to the side, noticing how Larry- with his eyes wide-open and unblinking- is staring at her with a look intense enough to bore holes through stone.

"Larry Butz, why are you staring at me like that?" Franziska asks with an undertone of hesitation.

"Love me, Franzy… LOVE ME!" Larry yells as he rushes at Franziska, prompting her to run around the holding cell as the wannabe Casanova chases after her with his arms extended outwards.

"Stop this foolishness, Larry Butz! Get away from me!"

"I want love! I want a hot girl! I want love and a hot girl! It's my God-given right as a guy who is friends with Nick and Edgey!"

Larry lunges forward like a tiger pouncing at its prey and grabs onto Franziska's leg.

"Larry Butz, get off of my leg this instant!" Franziska snarls as she shakes her leg in a futile attempt to get Larry off of her.

"No! I'm fastened to you with the glue of love and desperation! You'll never be rid of me, for I have nothing left to lose but my loneliness!" Larry wails, his face bright red as tears stream down his cheeks.

Meanwhile, Kristoph is sitting in his purple armchair aboard his dirigible, watching the scene unfold from the cell's surveillance camera and chuckles. "You know, this wish suits Wright and his foolish friends splendidly- giving them bodies that perfectly match their childish naiveté. I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank Aeliren85 and Aria and Clive for submitting the idea for this chapter.

Speaking of Aria and Clive, they asked me last chapter if characters from _Professor Layton vs. Phoenix Wright_ can be used for episodes, and the answer to that is no. I want to keep this story focused on the main series, which consists of the _Ace Attorney_ and _Ace Attorney Investigation_ games.


	14. Franziska

**Name:** Franziska von Karma

 **Vehicle:** Volkswagen Beetle _(The epitome of German automobiles- compact, fast, and gets the job done. The perfect vehicle for the perfect prosecutor.)_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 2/5 _(Armor is merely a security blanket for weak fools. Does Franziska look like Miles Edgeworth?)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 5/5 _(No von Karma worth their salt would be caught dead not knowing and utilizing the blitzkrieg in their daily life. To attack fast and strong is to quickly gain dominance over and strike fear into one's enemies; a tactic that has served the von Karma clan well generation after generation in a wide variety of situations- the courtroom, the game room, the bedroom…)_

 **Vehicle Handling:** Very Tight _(Franziska's vehicle handles perfectly. End of discussion.)_

 **Special Attack:** 4/5 _(Whip Lash Splash- Franziska's whip may not look all that harmful, but looks can be deceiving. If Franziska gets within range of an opposing vehicle, she can easily tear off a door with her infamous weapon. And before you ask, we chose this attack name because Larry wouldn't stop begging and crying about how no one loves him.)_

 **Bio:** Kristoph Gavin is going to pay! I can tolerate that fool forging evidence or playing the court like a fiddle- techniques that my family was mastering while his was swinging on vines!- but when _he_ steps on _MY_ turf, that's where I draw the line with his blood on the tip of my whip! Brace yourself, Kristoph Gavin, because you've made a powerful enemy in perfection, and her name is Franziska von Karma!

* * *

Kristoph sits on his usual bench, sniggering to himself as he reads an old newspaper containing his favorite article of all time: Phoenix's alleged use of forged evidence and his following disbarment.

Oh, the wonderful memories that are brought to the forefront of Kristoph's dark, depraved mind whenever he reads it- how he was able to manipulate his gullible, warm-hearted younger brother so easily; or how he was able to strike down that blowhard magician, who had the audacity to turn down _his_ genius legal aid, with his own flesh and blood. But by far the sweetest memory comes in the form of the feeling of victory he felt upon giving that blissful, naïve, idealistic, bleeding heart of an attorney just what was coming to him.

For three years, three long, agonizing, years, Kristoph had to put up with people raving on about how wonderful of an attorney Phoenix Wright was- the way the spiky-haired lawyer believed in his clients until the very end, fighting not for money or glory, but justice; having a near-perfect win record while never resorting to dirty, underhanded tricks such as forged evidence or false testimonies. How Kristoph despised their cries of praise and the bile that rose in his throat and burned like the flames of a campfire- the flames of his hatred for that moron known only as Phoenix Wright.

What position of authority were these peasants- ignorant mouth-breathers who couldn't differentiate an objection from a rejection- in to say who the best lawyer on the West Coast was? Did they go to four years of law school, coming out at the top of their class? Did they become a famous defense attorney through hard work and thought-out strategies alone? Did they ever take on more than a single client in a given month? No, no they did not! And neither had Wright…

The way that Phoenix Wright defended his clients was sickening to anyone with half a functioning brain- the way that he bluffed whenever he was in a corner, like a monkey throwing its feces at a brick wall in the hopes that something sticks; only winning an acquittal for his poor, equally-naïve client by sheer luck and connections. Did Kristoph ever receive the privilege of being mentored by a famed defense attorney and inheriting her firm upon her untimely death? Kristoph wishes, instead, he had the misfortune of having to start his firm out of a decrepit building in a bad part of town where a large homeless man would pester him to no end; or at least Kristoph _thought_ that he was homeless- considering his mangy green overcoat, overwhelming smell of noodle broth and body odor, and possessing the look of a man who had nothing left to live for as he begged for loose change out of the attorney's cup holder.

But the worst part about it was Wright's idiotically goofy grin, as if to say that he had not a care in the world and that everything would come up all rainbows and daffodils. Well of course everything will work out swimmingly when you have the luxury of cherry-picking only innocent clients; whereas other attorneys aren't so lucky to have a friend in one of Los Angeles wealthiest and most influential prosecutors who is more than willing to help out his pal. Kristoph was one such attorney and had to slowly build up his career by the sweat of his brow- taking whatever clients he could get and create a winning case with very little evidence.

But how could an unsophisticated, slack jawed idiot like Wright ever become such close friends with a refined legal genius like Miles Edgeworth? …Of course! Why hadn't Kristoph realized it any sooner!? It's not something that he can claim to understand… but Wright and Edgeworth were lovers! It's the only possible explanation! How else could an attorney be on such good terms with an influential prosecutor, especially one of Wright's caliber? Or how Edgeworth entrusted a rookie with only three wins under his belt to defend his freedom and life? Attorneys only get those kinds of jobs on their hands and knees! That-

Kristoph's thoughts are interrupted by the crack of a whip smacking the newspaper out of his hands, gracing his eyes to the icy cold glare of the infamous Franziska von Karma, a prosecutor's whose pursuit of perfection is rivaled only by her fiery temper and excessive use of the word 'fool'.

"Kristoph Gavin, you foolish son of a foolish fool!" Franziska hisses as she grabs the end of her whip and tugs on it, as if preparing for a fight.

"Nice to see you too, Ms. von Karma…" Kristoph playfully muses as he rises to his feet. "As the winner of-" Kristoph is cut off by Franziska whipping his shoulder, causing the host of Debauched Steel to grunt through clenched teeth.

"Fool! A von Karma does not win unless their victory is absolute- no loose ends and no fools that have wrong them left standing!"

Kristoph cocks his head in confusion. "I don't understand. You're the last contestant standing; there's no one left and therefore no loose ends."

Objection! There's still one last person who has wronged me: You, Kristoph Gavin!" Franziska yells, anger filling her eyes as she points a black-gloved finger at the deranged host, causing Kristoph, to flinch, though he quickly regains his composure.

"What are you talking about, Ms. von Karma? I've done nothing to warrant this kind of hostility."

Franziska whips Kristoph. "Don't play dumb with me, Kristoph Gavin! I'm talking about what you did to Phoenix Wright all those years ago!"

Kristoph puts his hands out in front of himself in an attempt to placate the tiny silver-haired prosecutor's wrath. "Hold on, Ms. von Karma. I know that you're Wright's friend and all, but you should hear-" Franziska cuts him off with another lash of her whip.

"I am _NOT_ friends with that foolishly foolish excuse for a foolish attorney who foolishly bluffs like a fool! Especially not after he had the gall to ruin not one, but _two_ of my perfect trials!" Franziska snarls, holding up two shaky fingers to emphasize her point.

Upon hearing this news, Kristoph's face morphs into a scowl of fury and irritation. "Then why are you angry with me? Newsflash: I singlehandedly ruined Phoenix Wright's pathetic career and reputation in one fell swoop! You should be rejoicing and singing my praises, not whipping me!"

"That's just it: _you_ ruined Phoenix Wright's career; an act that I had laid claim to a good year before you decided to foolishly intervene. And to add insult to injury, you did it through such cowardly means! Giving that naïve fool forged evidence from the shadows…" Franziska spits the phrase out as if it's a bad taste. "Us von Karmas may have ruined many a promising attorney's career, we aren't afraid to show our involvement as we publically crush their hopes and dreams under our boots."

Kristoph sniggers, a slight grin spreading across his face, prompting Franziska to growl and grip her whip.

"And just what is so funny, Kristoph Gavin?" Franziska growls.

"Nothing, nothing…" Kristoph innocently replies, fighting back a few remaining giggles.

Franziska whips Kristoph. "Talk!"

"So tell me, Ms. von Karma, how exactly do your kin 'show their involvement' when it comes to… say, penalties?" Kristoph calmly asks, pushing his glasses up, the mere mention of the word 'penalty' causing Franziska to flinch.

"Shut your foolish mouth, Kristoph Gavin!" Franziska snaps.

"Oh, someone's pulling out their claws. Did I upset you? Well, I, for one, would be quite upset if I had a father who killed an unconscious defense attorney without nary a witness over a single penalty."

Franziska grinds her teeth as she whips Kristoph again. "You leave Papa out of this! This has nothing to do with him!"

"On the contraire… We're practically one in the same- we both struck down naïve, idealistic attorneys in cold blood. However, unlike your father, whose arrogance led to his downfall and death, I was only able to be brought down with forged evidence and a band of filthy mouth-breathing jurists."

As Kristoph continues on about how he succeeded where Manfred had failed, Franziska clenches her fists, snarling as her knuckles grow white.

"…So by that logic, I'm more of a von Karma than your father ever was." Kristoph sneers. Though Kristoph's victory is short-lived as Franziska, her face flushed red with anger, unleashes a barrage of whip lashes upon the host of _Debauched Steel_.

"Blasphemy! A foolishly foolish attorney who was passed over in exchange for that foolish fool Phoenix Wright would never be able to hold a candle to Papa's genius! Especially not one that looks almost as feminine as me- what with your braided hair, smooth skin and… manicured nails! Even Larry Butz, one of the most sniveling, pathetic men that I have ever had the misfortune to come across had more masculine hands than you!" Franziska angrily japes as she continues her onslaught.

"Ow! I- ow! Believe that- argh! It's important for one's nails- ow! To be perfectly manicured at all times!" Kristoph states as he covers his face with his hands- a big mistake on his part when Franziska breaks all of his fingernails with two precise lashes of her whip.

"Not so pristine now, are they, Kristoph Gavin?" Franziska sneers as she waggles her finger at the gobstruck ex-attorney.

"My nails…!" Kristoph gasps, his facing growing red as he grits his teeth. "You will pay for that, von Karma, or my name isn't-" The host of _Debauched Steel_ is cut off by Franziska resuming her whipping barrage, increasing the rate of her strikes to the point where Kristoph is forced to drop to his knees.

Mustering his strength, Kristoph snaps his fingers and turns Franziska's trusty weapon into a rattlesnake… which she proceeds to whip him with as if nothing had happened, much to the dismay of the psychotic host and the poor snake.

"That's it!" Kristoph snaps his fingers, making the snake disappear. "Who in their right mind whips a person with a venomous snake?"

"Well, what fool in their right mind steals victory from a perfect prosecutor with a whip and then foolishly proceeds to pick a fight with them?"

Kristoph grins at Franziska. "Touché. But don't forget, Ms. von Karma, as the winner of _Debauched Steel_ , you can wish for practically anything your short-tempered mind desires. Why, with one sentence, I can give you the perfect record that you avidly seek. So what do you say?"

"No." Franziska curtly responds.

"Are you sure? Isn't the whole reason why you're so cross with Wright, and in turn me, is due to the fact that your record has been soiled? By wishing for a perfect record right here and now, all of the wrongs that Wright has committed against you will be righted- no pun intended, of course."

Franziska crosses her arms and lets out an exasperated sigh. "Do I look like a fool to you, Kristoph Gavin?"

Kristoph cocks his head in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"Do you think that I'll just simply forget how you and Phoenix Wright have wronged me if you simply restore my perfect record? Now, that 'look at the big picture' and 'see the forest through the trees' mentality may work on fools like my little brother; but I'm no fool! I'm a von Karma! And when it comes to revenge, a von Karma never forgets, and never, _ever_ forgives…!" Franziska proclaims, clenching her fists and glaring daggers at Kristoph as she slowly stomps towards the ex-attorney, who proceeds to slowly back away from the fireball prosecutor.

"Ms. von Karma, please calm down. Can't we talk this over like rational adults?"

"You were talking about how you were better than Papa- all because you were so slick and covered your tracks. But do you know why my Papa got caught? Revenge… You see, Kristoph Gavin, while you were content to a foolish hit-and-run strategy, Papa was getting retribution on a whole new level. Papa took in the son of the man who had wronged him, raised him to be the opposite of his father, and was about to execute the piece de resistance of his master plan: having the boy sentenced to prison for patricide by his own hand. And what did you have, a forged diary page and a poisoned stamp? Papa would have laughed at such petty plans. But don't worry, Kristoph Gavin, even though I learned everything that I know from Papa, I'm not going to spend years torturing you. Instead, I'm going to strike you down swiftly and painfully!"

"And just how do you plan to do that, Ms. von Karma? Did you already forget that you've been disarmed?" Kristoph smirks.

Franziska chuckles to herself as a sinister grin spreads across her face. "Who said anything about whipping you…?" the prosecutor cracks her knuckles as Kristoph nervously gulps, his eyes widening as a few beads of sweat form on his forehead. "You don't know how long I've wished to ram my foot right up your and Phoenix Wright's foolish asses, Kristoph Gavin."

Seeing his long-awaited opportunity finally present itself, Kristoph calms down and lets out a snort of derision. "Granted."

Kristoph raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light.

When the light diminishes, Franziska shrieks in horror upon discovering that each of her legs, up to her knees, are shoved into the rectums of two donkeys, each with a sign on their backs, one reading 'Property of Kristoph Gavin' and the other 'Property of Phoenix Wright'.

"Kristoph Gavin! What is the meaning of this!? Why are my legs inside two donkeys' rear ends?!" Franziska yells as she squirms in a futile attempt to free herself.

Kristoph smiles at Franziska and shakes his head. "What? I simply gave you what you wished for. You wanted to have your legs rammed up my and Wright's asses and that's what you got. …You know, for a brief moment, I was actually nervous for a brief moment that you'd give me nothing to work with. But when all's said and done, I had nothing to fear. After all, like father, like daughter."

"This isn't over, Kristoph Gavin! I will get you for this if it's the last thing I do! You'd best sleep with one eye open, because when you least expect it, I will-"

"Simmer down, Ms. von Karma, don't act like such an ass. It's very unbecoming, you know." Kristoph sneers before turning to face the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."


	15. Grossberg

**Name:** Marvin Grossberg

 **Vehicle:** Franklin Furth Hotdog Car ( _Grossberg won it from a sweepstakes by having poor Mia, Diego, and Hammond work day and night writing letters to Franklin Furth Hotdogs. Winning a giant hotdog-shaped vehicle at the cost of your subordinates' respect… Worth it._ )

 **Vehicle Armor:** 5/5 ( _If this mighty mobile wiener can handle Grossberg's girth, it can withstand anything._ )

 **Vehicle Speed:** 1/5 ( _Does Grossberg look like the fastest thing alive to you? No…? Then why should his vehicle be any different?_ )

 **Vehicle Handling:** Sluggish ( _This vehicle was made for advertising, not mad driving. But Grossberg doesn't need precise handling when he's got a special attack like his…_ )

 **Special Attack:** 5/5 ( _Fog of Plight- What kind of sick sorcery is this? Grossberg's vehicle emits a perpetual odor that causes any drivers that dare approach it to become disoriented from the unbearable odor. But if that wasn't bad enough, plumes of what we hope is noxious brown water spew from the driver's side's window, creating road slicks that essentially turn the arena into one big ice rink._ )

 **Bio:** Why, hello there. I'm Marvin Grossberg, attorney at law and a darn good one, if I do say so myself. I've been in the legal game for over 40 years now and I've seen a lot of things- public officials brought down, laws changing, and bright, young attorneys starting with only the badge on their lapels and a bag full of hopes and dreams going out on their own and making a name from themselves. How it reminds me of the carefree days of my youth… a shiny new badge, lemon candies in a bowl on my desk, and not having to deal with the fiery pain of hemorrhoids. You see, hemorrhoids are like someone doing the Harlem Shake in Willy Wonka's chocolate river- erratic and… What's that? You don't wish to hear about my hemorrhoids…? Fine. Have it your way. What I'm tryin to say is that life can be a cruel mistress, taking away what you love most without a moment's notice. But after I win this competition, I'm taking something back from life…

* * *

Kristoph sits on a bench by the street, fondly reading a newspaper article detailing a trial that the host of _Debauched Steel_ won back in 2023. The top of the page shows a black and white photo of Kristoph, a smirk on his face as confetti falls from above- a strange phenomenon that occurs with acquittals in LA that the ex-attorney had long since given up trying to understand- and his then-new protégé, Apollo Justice, who looks excited just to be there.

Apollo Justice... The boy showed much promise, with dedication and organizational skills beyond his years, yet with the enthusiasm and curiosity of a young child. Kristoph was never one to believe in absurd malarkey like 'auras' or 'ghosts' or that feng shui nonsense, but the ex-attorney knew that from the moment he set his eyes on this young attorney, he was destined to be the boy's teacher. Granted, Apollo's grades were a bit lower than what Kristoph would have preferred, but this was the Gavin Law Offices, run by none other than the Coolest Defense in the West. Kristoph was completely certain that he, with his magnificent genius and wondrous way with words, was more than capable of teaching the young boy all that he needed to know; molding Apollo into an attorney the likes of which no attorney, save for himself, could compete with.

However, Kristoph quickly found out that there was one downside to Apollo: his undying love and admiration for Phoenix Wright. Oh Lord, how the boy talked about Phoenix Wright… Whenever they'd walk through the firm's parking lot, Apollo would go on and on about how he always checks the tailpipes of cars for evidence because Wright discovered evidence hidden in a muffler once. And when they'd go out for lunch, Apollo would mention how Wright once had a case where he had to eat horrid faux-French cuisine. And whenever a cute, young girl would request Kristoph's services, Apollo would never fail to ask if said girl would become his assistant, much to his disdain, all because Wright hired his after defending her in court.

Kristoph didn't need an assistant. They'd only serve to slow him down and muddle the perfection that was his genius. Though unfortunately, that response would only prompt the boy to ask if Kristoph was only saying that because he couldn't get a cute girl to be his assistant. Bah! How ridiculous! Kristoph was intelligent, wealthy, and had a good personality- he was a prize and could have any woman he desired! It's just that women tended to flock to lesser men like Wright; though for life of him, Kristoph couldn't fathom why. Perhaps they were just intimidated by his glory and felt that he was too good for them. Yes, that has to be it. Why else would women settle for a fool like Wright?

But despite the boy's fawning over his archenemy day in and day out, Apollo was open to Kristoph's mentoring. And likewise, Kristoph was determined to teach the boy everything he knew- ranging from how to wait for the perfect time to object to how one should slam their hand on the table- in order to prove to Apollo how he had more skill as an attorney than Wright ever had.

And that's why this one trial has always stood out to Kristoph. Not because it was challenging or intense, a mere case of attempted assault, but because it showed Apollo just how skilled his mentor was. Kristoph can still remember the look of pure amazement in Apollo's eyes as the boy praised him, not Wright, _him_ , over lunch. And sure enough, from that day forth, Apollo's instances of referring to Wright, as if he was God-incarnate, drastically decreased. Kristoph did it. He won his protégé's admiration from his hated nemesis in a battle that the latter had no idea he was fighting… or so he thought.

Then came April 20th, 2026, the arguably worst day of Kristoph's life. He couldn't have asked for a more perfect setup: that magical poker douche, Zak Gramarye, was dead, Wright was arrested as the culprit, and, thanks to his brilliant insight, they would never figure out his involvement. It was the final act in the seven year drama that was Kristoph's relationship with Wright and the host of _Debauched Steel_ was going to end it the way it had begun- by having that idealistic moron take the fall for his crime… that is, until Wright requested Apollo to take his case. Granted, Wright had the intelligence of half a rock, but Kristoph couldn't understand why the poker sharp would prefer some excitable, loud-mouthed rookie over his brilliance and experience. But then again, having Apollo discover the truth behind his former hero's 'crime' and have him sentenced to life in prison would be a delicious dose of irony.

That is, it _would_ have been sweet, had Wright not used his silver tongue and nefarious bluffing techniques to slowly poison Apollo's young mind, causing the lad to turn against his own mentor. That was Wright's master plan all along- to lie in waiting and steal Kristoph's student from right under his nose and use forged evidence to ruin an otherwise perfect scheme and throw him in prison in a sad, pathetic attempt to regain his lost glory. How pathetic! A washed-up bum having to resort to filling a naïve boy's mind with the idealistic hogwash of 'pursuing the truth' and believing in one's client until the bitter end'. Maybe-

"*Ah-HHHHEM!*" An over-the-top clearing of the throat bellows, snapping Kristoph out of his thoughts.

Putting down his newspaper, Kristoph looks up to see Grossberg standing before him.

"Ah, Mr. Grossberg, sorry for keeping you waiting. My mind was in… other places." The host of _Debauched Steel_ pushes up his glasses as he gets up from his seat.

"Don't mention it, my boy! My mind wanders back to the lemon-scented days of my youth all the time. Why, I remember when I first discovered that I had hemorrhoids as if it was yesterday… The year was 1978, and life was on the upswing for me- I got my attorney's badge, already established my own firm, and discovered the irresistible charm of extra-spicy Mexican cuisine… So there I was, dancing to some sweet disco at the club, when all of a sudden, I felt this gurgling in my stomach. Then, before I could even react-"

"Hold it!" Kristoph yells, his left eye twitching as he tries to unsee the mental image that Grossberg was trying to put in his mind. "I don't need to hear any more."

"Are you sure? The story gets pretty juicy… It took three janitors to clean off the ceiling after I was done!" Grossberg boasts.

"Trust me; I've never been surer about anything in my entire life!" Kristoph takes a few deep breaths to regain his composure. "So, what's your wish?"

A look of sorrow fills Grossberg's eyes as his shoulders slump over.

"It was the week of September fifth, 2016… Redd White… That horrible monster… He stole someone very important from me and I want it back!" Grossberg shouts as tears well up in his eyes.

"Yes, I remember that week. That was when White murdered Mia Fey in cold blood." _Merely replacing a bluffing bimbo who made boys drool with her little bluffing fool, might I add._ "So, you want me to bring Ms. Fey back to life for you?" Kristoph asks with a sinister grin.

"Mia? Sure, her death was tragic, but I'm not talking about her."

Kristoph cocks his head in confusion. "But she was your former employee who was murdered during that time by White. Who else could you possibly be referring to?"

"Why, my fisherman painting, of course!" Grossberg bellows.

"You want me to bring back… a painting?" Kristoph asks, unsure if the rotund attorney simply misspoke or is trying to mess with him.

"Did I stutter, son? That painting was my pride and joy! The color of the sky! The hue of the sea! The weave of the fisherman's straw hat and the stubble of his beard! It was worth at least three- no, FIVE million dollars! I would have given up all of my Cortizone 10 hemorrhoid ointment before I would have surrendered my precious painting! But alas, Redd White stole it away from me, only for it to be claimed as evidence when he was arrested."

Grossberg falls to his knees with a loud thud and grabs onto Kristoph legs.

"So please, Kristoph, my boy, bring my beautiful painting back to me! I'm begging yooou!" Grossberg wails, his tears staining Kristoph's pants leg as the disgruntled host of _Debauched Steel_ shakes him off.

"As much as I fail grasp your reasoning, Grossberg, I'll grant your wish."

"Bless you, Kristoph!" Grossberg kisses Kristoph's shoe. "Bless you!"

"Yeah…" Kristoph takes a step back as Grossberg gets back up on his feet. "Since I don't know what your painting looks like, I'm going to need to use my powers to get some more background information…"

Kristoph waves his hand, causing a floating translucent orb to appear in front of his face, which he proceeds to rotate with his finger; causing it to disappear a few seconds later.

"Alright, I now know what painting you're talking about and it will be here riiight… now." Kristoph snaps his fingers.

Grossberg eyes dart around the area, only to find that his beloved painting is nowhere to be found. "So where is it?"

At that moment, Grossberg's painting falls from the sky and breaks into several pieces upon hitting the ground.

"NOOOOO!" Grossberg wails as rushes over to his destroyed painting, grabbing and holding its remains in his hands and falling to his knees as one would with a loved one that was killed in battle. "My baby… WHY!?" The portly attorney shouts, tears filling his eyes as he glares at Kristoph who simply laughs.

"What? You wanted it returned to you in one piece. Well, in that case, you should have been more specific with your request."

"Damn you, Kristoph! May you rot in Hell with the worst case of hemorrhoids known to man!" Grossberg wails.

Kristoph huffs in derision. "Is that the best you can do? There are children on the internet who have threatened me more harshly than that."

Grossberg takes a few angry, shallow breaths, his nostrils flaring as his face reddens. "I swear, on all that is lemon-scented and holy, that I will get you one of these days, Kristoph Gavin! You'd best sleep with one eye open because my vengeance will be like my hemorrhoids- fast, messy, and out of the blue!"

"Hey now, no use in crying over a smashed painting, especially one as ugly as that one, am I right?" Kristoph sneers at the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."


	16. Meekins

**Name:** Mike Meekins

 **Vehicle:** Blue Badgermobile _(Who says that this competition has to be all about killing? Not Mike Meekins, that's for sure. While all the other competitors are blowing each other to smithereens, Meekins is spreading the good word of the Blue Badger and making children's dreams come true… while trying to blow everyone to smithereens.)_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 1/5 _(This vehicle was designed to bring happiness to children, not navigate the battlefield. Plus, would you want Meekins to drive a car that allows him to survive any 'accidents'?)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 2/5 _(Who in their right mind would give a vehicle with respectable speed to the man who gets his tie stuck in his car door two-thirds of the time?)_

 **Vehicle Handling:** 3/5 _(Nothing too spectacular, but it can at least do its job; something that can't be said about the driver.)_

 **Special Attack:** 0/5 _(Pleas for Mercy- Meekins drives away while screaming like a little girl and begging for mercy with his classic Mike Meekins charm. In short, the only thing this attack accomplishes is ensuring that no one gives the bumbling court bailiff an ounce of respect.)_

 **Bio:** Hello, ladies and gentlemen! My name's Mike Meekins and I'm a bai- Wait why are you running!? Is it something I said?! Am I not speaking loud enough?! IS THIS LOUD ENOUGH FOR YOU?! DOES THE MEGAPHONE SATISFY YOUR NEEDS!? …I guess that's a 'no'… *sigh* I'm so lonely…

* * *

Kristoph is sitting back on a bench by the side of the road, awaiting the winner of _Debauched Steel_ , his legs crossed as he casually reads through _Moby Dick_ , imagining himself as Captain Ahab and Wright as the infamous great white whale- only in Kristoph's mind, he wins and hangs Wright's head on his mantle. But unfortunately for the psychotic host, his fantasies are cut short when suddenly…

"SIR! I AM HERE FOR MY WISH, MR. GAVIN, SIR!" Meekins bellows into his megaphone, snapping Kristoph out of his fantasies as the host of _Debauched Steel_ jerks back in his seat.

"Of all the people to win…" Kristoph mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose before letting out a long, exasperated sigh. "Indeed you are, Mr. Meekins. So what is your wish? And remember, as the winner of _Debauched Steel_ , you can wish for nearly anything that your heart desires, so don't hesitate to just blurt it out."

Meekins salutes Kristoph. "Sir! About that, I've recently had an epiphany, sir!"

Kristoph's left eye starts twitching.

 _Shirley Temple, give me strength…_ The demented host internally pleads.

"After that psychopath Blaise Debeste refused to dedicate any actual punishments to me, saying how I'm too pathetic, I realize that I'm not a well-liked person, sir..." Meekins states, eyeing the ground with a look of sorrow.

"No, really!?" Kristoph scoffs in an over-the-top sarcastic tone that goes over Meekins' head.

"I've been so blind, sir! The signs have been there all my life, I just chose to ignore them- thinking that there was no trend! When I was in kindergarten, sir, all the other kids would yank at my long, feminine eyebrows and the teacher would respond by giving me a timeout for causing a disturbance with my crying! Then, when I was in fourth grade, everyone in my class treated my awkwardness as a disease would run away from me screaming, lest they came into contact and developed my personality! They called it m-germs, sir, and when I went to the teacher about it, she merely told me to ignore it. I did, and the other kids continued to do it anyways for an entire year, sir! Jump forward to middle school, where none of the other trombone players would ever let me sit in our section, forcing me to sit with the Tuba players where the teacher would always yell at me, yet would never aid me! And it didn't help that all the girls made it their life's work to make mine a living hell- threatening to beat me up at my house, tripping me down stairs, and spreading a rumor that I'm dating a cactus! Do you know how it feels to be called 'Prickly Prostate' nonstop for three years, sir!?"

"Not exactly, but I'd take that over this torturous exposition in a heartbeat." Kristoph wryly comments, though Meekins completely ignores him as he proceeds with his story.

"And when I was in high school, no girl would ever want to date me despite how I'd act like a gentleman and treat each and every last one of them with respect- even when they'd trick me by saying how they wanted to get to know me better, only to blindfold me, strip me down to my birthday suit, and send me onto the center of the football field during the big game against Monroe Prep! The guys were awful, sir, bullying me for being a virgin, sitting alone in the cafeteria, and that my mom was my only friend! And the girls were even worse, mocking me for having a small package and being smooth! I-"

Meekins is interrupted by Kristoph delivering a swift punch to his jaw, sending the clumsy bailiff tumbling to the ground.

 _Splendid… JordanPhoenix was onto something with her suggestion, she really was._ The host of Debauched Steel thinks as he rubs his fist and glowers to the ground at the now-trembling Meekins. "Now then, you grating little basket case, get to the point and state your wish or I will decide for you in the form of sending you on a one-way trip to the sun!"

"Isn't it obvious, sir? I WANT PEOPLE TO LIKE ME!" Meekins screams into his megaphone before springing back up on his feet.

"Granted." Kristoph sneers.

The demented host raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. However, when the light diminishes, it appears as if nothing has changed.

"So, Mr. Meekins, how do you feel?" Kristoph calmly asks.

The bumbling bailiff opens his mouth to speak, but no sounds come out, much to his horror and Kristoph's delight. Meekins, becoming more and more distraught by the second, begins to have a major panic attack- frantically hopping up and down like a demented grasshopper, sloppily spinning around like a lopsided top, and erratically waving his arms to an extent that would make even Wocky Kitaki say 'Damn!'- as he tries harder and harder to scream, but to no avail. The oaf of a law enforcer even fails to find relief through his trusty megaphone which projects only silence, causing Meekins to breakdown into tears and sobs which no one, thankfully, can hear.

"What's wrong, Mr. Meekins? Cat got your tongue? No matter, after all, silence _is_ golden." Kristoph sneers before turning to face the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank JordanPhoenix for submitting the idea for this chapter.


	17. Trilo and Ben

**Names:** Trilo Quist and Benjamin Woodman

 **Vehicle:** Mom's Car _(In Trilo's own words, "If Ben could stop being such a big looser for once and actually get us a decent paying job, maybe we could afford a man's car. Instead, we have to settle for his mom's crappy Geo!")_

 **Vehicle Armor** : 2/5 _(When asked about the low armor stat, Ben told us that it's better than nothing, to which Trilo responded by saying how that's an insult to the good name of nothing considering that it's better than Ben.)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 4/5 _(This vehicle was in no way designed for high-speed action, and Ben has panic attacks at speeds greater than 40 mph, but Trilo demands fast-paced action and that's just what he's going to get, even if he has to Punch Ben's ugly nose all day.)_

 **Vehicle Handling:** 1/5 ( _It's not easy to control a vehicle when two people with polar opposite personalities are fighting over the wheel.)_

 **Special Attack** : 1/5 _(Tenor of the Gods- Trilo tries to mesmerize the other drivers with his singing voice, only to start yelling insults at them when he notices that they're ignoring him, causing them to be blinded with rage and target his and Ben's vehicle. Not the best attack out there, but it's still better than Meekins'. Plus, the other drivers could crash into a wall or each other in their rage, so this attack has the very slim possibility of being useful.)_

 **Bio:** H-Hi… My… My name's Ben… I'm a ventri-

God! You are such a looser, Woodman! How do you expect to get people to root for us when you're so lame!

S-Sorry, Trilo…

Damn right you are! Now why don't you actually be useful for once and keep that stupid mouth of yours quiet while I handle the introductions…! Hey folks, I'm Trilo, the famed tenor of the Berry Big Circus, and this moron behind me is Ben, an ugly looser who has nothing better to do than to follow me around and stick his hand up my pants.

Hi…

What did I say about talking!? You speak when I say so, dummy! … Sorry about that, folks. Sometimes I have to man up and remind Ben here his place in our little duo. Sure, he's not the smartest guy out there, or the most attractive, or even in possession of basic social skills, but I keep him with me 'cause I'm a sweetheart. Without me, Ben would shrivel up and die alone in a gutter somewhere. But unfortunately, even my vast wellspring of kindness has its limits, for I am like a mighty eagle and Ben is a 50-ton weight tied to its ankle. Sure, I can try to take flight and reach higher places, but as long as I have Ben breathing down my neck, I'll always be weighed down and stuck living in squalor at the Berry Big Circus. But after I win this contest, that Gavin guy's gonna help me soar to stardom!

* * *

Kristoph is sitting on his usual bench, reading a newspaper, when he is suddenly thumped on the head. Throwing down his newspaper, Kristoph shoots a death glare at the winner of _Debauched Steel_ , Benjamin Woodman, whose only response is pointing down at his puppet.

"Hey lady, know where I can find Kristoph Gavin? Guy owes me a wish." Trilo says with a smug grin.

"I'm Kristoph Gavin." The host of _Debauched Steel_ curtly responds.

"Really? I was told Kristoph Gavin was a guy, whereas you look like Goldilocks on a business trip."

"Trilo… It's not nice to make fun of a person's appearance." Ben meekly scolds.

"Shut up, Woodman!" Trilo snaps as he starts punching Ben's face. "For crying out loud, he looks like a freakin' reject Barbie! He's asking for it!"

"Do you realize who you're insulting? I'm Kristoph Gavin, the man who single-handedly ruined Phoenix Wright's career and is currently capable of bending the fabric of the universe to his will. So if I were you, little man, I'd watch my mouth." Kristoph hisses as he leans towards the puppet and pushes his shoulder.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Trilo growls as he taps his hand against Kristoph's torso. "Hands off the merchandize, Pisstoph! Do you _know_ who I am? I'm Trilo Quist, the world-renown tenor of the Berry Big Circus, and I demand to be treated with respect!"

"Well, don't you have a big ego for a little puppet who's dressed like a pack of Mentos." Kristoph sneers with crossed arms, prompting Trilo to clench his fists as he growls in anger.

"Puppet! Who are you calling a puppet, Bitchtoph!? I'm the star of the show! Me, Trilo Quist! I sing, I dance, and I do impressions- if anyone's the puppet, then it's the ugly looser behind me who doesn't know when to leave me alone. Heck, he's so ugly that even a chick like you would turn him down for a date."

"Are you trying to pick a fight? Because if you are, then I'd be more than happy to introduce you to my wood chipper!" Kristoph snaps.

"Whoa, whoa, girly. If you can bend reality, then why don't you give yourself a tampon, 'cause it's clearly your time of the month."

"Why you little…!" Kristoph snarls, his fingers tense as if ready to strangle the puppet.

Trilo points at the host of _Debauched Steel_ and bursts into laughter. "Oh my god! You've got manicured nails!?"

"Yes, you little termite snack. I feel that perfectly-manicured nails are a sign of sophistication and class, two things you could never hope to comprehend."

"What are you, one of those metrosexuals who dresses like a fashion disaster from the 70's and watches Shirley Temple movies in their free time?"

"Shut your filthy mouth!" Kristoph roars, his left eye wildly twitching as he glares daggers at Trilo. "Shirley Temple was an American treasure and I will not allow you nor anyone else to insult her magnificent legacy or her fan base, you miserable excuse for a toothpick!"

"Oh, you think you're _sooo_ witty with your insults. Well newsflash, I can throw insults around as well, you periwinkle pisshead!" Trilo yells with his fists raised.

"Glorified firewood!" Kristoph snaps.

"Drill head!" Trilo retorts.

"Pig-headed puppet!"

"Creepy Sausage!"

"Wright!"

"I don't know what the hell that's supposed to mean, but right back at you!"

Kristoph and Trilo pause to growl at each other, their glowering faces only separated by a few mere inches.

Ben nervously raises his hand. "Um, excuse me… Can-

"Stay out of this!" Kristoph and Trilo shout in unison, prompting Ben to shorten his neck as if he's a turtle trying to withdraw into its shell.

"Look Crapstoph, as much as I'd love to continue this little argument, I'm a busy guy with lots of things to do and places to go, so can we get to my wish now?" Trilo smugly asks as a smirk spreads across his face.

"Fine, what _is_ your wish? To become a real boy?" Kristoph wryly comments.

"Oh please, I'm more of a man than you'll ever be, twinkle toes. My wish is to get away from this wuss…!" Trilo punches Ben. "and you!"

"With pleasure." Kristoph says with a sinister grin and a snap of his fingers, causing Trilo to disappear in a burst of light.

"T-Trilo!" Ben shrieks as he frantically searches the area. "Wh-What have you done with him!?"

"I merely granted his wish and sent him away. But don't worry; I can assure you with absolute certainty that he's somewhere safe…" Kristoph sniggers.

Meanwhile, Trilo, who is now limp and lifeless without Ben, is locked in a safe onboard Kristoph's dirigible.

"You know, I'm having a sudden craving for chestnuts roasted over an open flame…" The host of _Debauched Steel_ sneers before turning to the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank JordanPhoenix for coming up with the majority of the insults that Trilo used on Kristoph. This chapter couldn't have been possible without the colorful names that she comes up with for the Coolest Defense in the West whenever he arises in conversation.


	18. Redd White

**Name:** Redd White

 **Vehicle:** Coche de Oro ( _Spanish for 'Gold Car'. As the name implies, White's vehicle of choice is a Lamborghini made of pure gold and is the only thing in the known universe even remotely capable of matching its owner's sheer gaudiness._ )

 **Vehicle Armor:** 1/5 ( _Who needs such trivial things like defense when you have the wondamazarious splendor of a gold car that shines brighter than three suns? Not Blanco Nino, that's for sure._ )

 **Vehicle Speed:** 5/5 ( _This vehicle moves as fast as its $7.5 million price tag is high._ )

 **Vehicle Handling:** 2/5 ( _Coche de Oro was made to be shiny and look pretty, not turning, a task it accomplishes in spades._ )

 **Special Attack:** 4/5 ( _Wave of Splendiferosity- By utilizing the combined gleam of his car, teeth, suit, and rings, White is able to unleash a mighty burst of light powerful enough to blind all opposing drivers within a four-mile radius of him._ )

 **Bio:** Greeyultations, simple viewers! I am Redd White, the former CEO, or president, of Bluecorp, the most fantazing information-collection business to ever exist. But I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if you were already furnished with this fact. After all, I was one of the most influential people in Los Angeles, if not the entire world. All it took was a mere glance from me to make women swoon, public officials wet themselves, and people from all walks of life give me nice things. I know that my fantabulistic splendor may frightimidate you mere peons, making you feel as if your shallow, meaningless lives could never hope to compare to my lofty accomplishments. But believe it or not, at one brief point, I was in your shoes as a feeble nobody that no one cared about. However, with hard work, deterministence, and a little bit of luck, I built my business up from the ground and into a mighty empire over the course of ten years- something even you pedestrian commoners could do if you were blessed with my tactocialite personality and expanormous intellect. But alas, not everyone… Wait! What do you mean I only have 30 seconds left, Mr. Cameraman? Do you know who I am? I'm Redd White, I made… Get your dirty serf hands of me, you filthy barbragamuffin!

* * *

Kristoph is standing by the side of the road, patiently waiting for the winner of Debauched Steel to arrive so that he can give them their reward: the ability to wish for nearly anything that their heart desires- a powerful prize indeed.

Suddenly, the psychotic host is blinded by a bright light, forcing him to cover his eyes as the sound of a roaring engine fills the air. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the light is no more, allowing for Kristoph to lower his hands from his face and see Redd White standing triumphantly next his garish abomination of a car.

"Greeyultations, Mr. Host!" White says, flashing Kristoph his best winning grin. "I am Redd White, the former CEO of Bluecorp."

 _Please, oh please, if there's a merciful God, let this end quickly._ "*Sigh…* I know who you are, Mr. White."

"Mr. White was my father's name, Mr. Host. Please, call me Blanco Nino!" White cheerfully states as he wraps his arm around Kristoph's shoulder, earning a faint guttural growl from the host of _Debauched Steel_. "It's the title of my personage that all my friends use- something a powerful man such as yourself is more than qualified to be."

"Thanks, but no thanks, Mr. White." Kristoph says as he pushes the pink-cladded man's hand of off of his shoulder.

"You're rejecting _my_ friendship!?" White gasps, reeling back out of sheer shock from such a blasphemous act. "Is there something wrong with you, Mr. Host?"

"No, I just don't want to be friends with a grating, flamboyant, washed-up, pathetic excuse of a man whose outfit produces more light pollution than the eastern seaboard and uses more nonsensical words than a Dr. Seuss book." Kristoph wryly comments with crossed arms.

"Abridipreculous! Just because you lack the expanormous intellect necessary to grasp my divarigeneous use of the English language does not justify your absurdulous reasoning!" White snaps.

"This… This is what I'm referring to." Kristoph lets out an exasperated sigh as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I may hate Phoenix Wright beyond all belief, but for all that idealistic fool's irritating personality traits, at least he was able to speak proper English- which is more than I can say for you."

White shakes his head. "Mui big mistake, Mr. Gravelybin. I'm the last guy you want to make angry."

"Oh, I _sooo_ scared..." Kristoph says in an over-the-top voice. "What are you going to do, butcher the English language some more? Or are you-"

Kristoph is interrupted as White punches him in the face, leaving a noticeable welt on the demented host's left cheek.

"How do you like that, Mr. Gravelybin? Because there's plenumerously more where that came from." White says with a smirk as he rubs his knuckles.

"Please don't waste your energy, Mr. White." Kristoph calmly replies as he heals his wounded visage with a mere snap of his fingers, much to the pink-cladded man's surprise.

"But… But how? I- I-" White sputters as he tries to grasp just how Kristoph recovered from the blow so quickly.

"It's rude to stutter, Mr. White, especially when dealing with a man who can bend reality on a whim. And just as these powers of mine can heal, they can also cause pain… and lots of it. So unless you want to find out first-hand just what kind of anguish I can inflict unto you both physically and mentally, please tell me your wish like a normal human being." Kristoph wryly states, flashing White a glare intense enough to make the pink-cladded man loose his usual confident smirk and cross his arms as a few drops of cold sweat drip down his brow.

"F-Fine… What I desire is simple: I want the fame and recognition that was wrongfully taken away from me."

"So you want your old life as the CEO of Bluecorp back?" Kristoph asks with a sinister smirk.

"Such small thoughts, Mr. Host! I don't want that dingy desk job, I want more! I want the entire world to know my name and face! I want to gaze down upon the mere commoners of all nations and be worshiped like the god-like being I am!" White arrogantly demands, acting as if Kristoph hadn't just threatened his life mere moments ago.

"Granted." Kristoph sneers as he digs his fingers into White's skull, sending bolts of electricity into the pink-cladded man's body as a blinding light is emitted and the sound of the flamboyant business man's screams fill the air.

When the light diminishes, White finds himself high above the city of Los Angeles, the people below appearing as mere ants as they point up and scream at him as if he is some freak of nature.

"What is bothgruntling you, people of LA? Is there something on my…?" White asks as he tries to feel his face, only to find that he can't move. "What is the meaning of this, Mr. Host? Why can't I move?"

On the roof of a rather tall skyscraper, Kristoph looks up and admires his handiwork in the form of the entire sky being replaced with White's face which has a giant nametag reading 'Hello, my name is Redd White' attached to his forehead.

"I know that this may take some getting used to, Mr. White, but look on the bright side- no one will be able to take their eyes off you." Kristoph sneers as the military arrives in the area and aims numerous rocket launchers and missiles at the flamboyant business man. "… Or their crosshairs."

The ex-attorney turns to the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."


	19. Inga

**Name:** Inga Karkhuul Haw'kohd Dis'nahm Bi'ahni Lawga Ormo Pohmpus Da'nit Ar'edi Iz Khura'in III

 **Vehicle:** The Dodge _(Sure, Inga's rusty 1973 Dodge is ugly, barely works, and almost melted in the rain once, but he can't bring himself to get rid of it despite possessing enough wealth to buy several modern, high-end vehicles. When asked why, the Minister of Justice replied, "This car and me share a bond, see? It's as if it understands my hopes, dreams, and pain.")_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 5/5 _(On more than one occasion, Inga hid in his car to avoid a night of passion with Ga'ran, and surprisingly, neither the queen nor her royal guard were able to pierce its impeccable defenses. However, things would quickly take a turn for the worse once the Minister of Justice finally vacated the vehicle.)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 1/5 _(Sure, the transmission fails nine-out-of-ten times and Inga ends up pushing his car, but it can at least go down hills like a champ… that is, on the rare times when the brakes actually work.)_

 **Vehicle Handling:** Sluggish _(Many people would say that axels so rusted that they prevent a vehicle from turning are a bad thing, but Inga believes that they make the car a straight-shooter with a dream, just like him.)_

 **Special Attack:** 5/5 _(Police Raid- Using his power as Minister of Justice, Inga orders his secret police to strike down any driver that attempts to harm him through a plethora of different methods, ranging from the subtle precision of a snipper riffle to the overt mass destruction of an RPG.)_

 **Bio:** Do I really got to do all this jazz? Can't we just get to the part where I kill my wife? *Sigh…* Fine! If you mooks won't stop bugging me about it, I'll do it! … Wait a minute, what's that green light supposed to mean? Are you filming? Well, shi- *Mechanical beep*

Hello, viewers at home, the name's Inga, Inga Karkhuul Khura'in III. If that name sounds at all familiar to you folks, it's because I'm the king of Khura'in and the guy who keeps everything in order while my wife sits on her lazy ass barking out orders. I- Hey, camera guy! What's with the goofy smirk…? Just because Ga'ran's the country's leader doesn't mean that I'm not king! I had to marry that overgrown spider-whale woman and, Holy Mother dammit, I'm going to squeeze every little positive I can get from it!

I swear, you don't know how often I have to deal with that sort of crap, even from the mooks working directly under me! Well, the days of me playing second fiddle to Ga'ran are numbered, because after I win, I'll claim the throne and finally get what I want for a change.

* * *

From a puff of smoke reeking of fuel and crushed dreams, Inga, with confident smirk, emerges from his dilapidated vehicle and saunters over to Kristoph, who has been patiently awaiting the Minister's arrival.

"Excuse me, girlie, I'm looking for a guy named Kristoph Gavin who's gonna give me a free wish." Inga states, leaning forward as he chomps down on his cigar stamp.

"I'm Kristoph." The demented host wryly says with a scowl on his face, irritated by the fact that even with his new powers, people still mistake him for a girl.

"You are?" Inga asks with a look of confusion, scratching the back of his neck out of awkwardness. "See, I thought you were a lady- what with your long, flowing hair, purple suit, flowery perfu-"

"I assure you, Minister Inga, I always have been, and will be, 100-percent male. And for the record, my suit is _periwinkle_ , a shade of blue, not purple." Kristoph snaps with crossed arms, unable to comprehend how a man wearing a purple cape could possibly make the mistake of confusing the elegant, soothing, subtle shade of his suit with one that would be at home in his foppish dandy of a brother's garish wardrobe.

"Geeze, calm down, Goldilocks. I didn't mean to insult ya, see? It's just where I'm from, guys look like, y'know… guys. Whereas you have nails that are on par with my wife's, except yours don't resemble talons."

"Minister Inga, if you don't stop commenting on my appearance and make your wish, I won't hesitate to use my powers to make _you_ less of a man." Kristoph wryly comments as he pushes his glasses up.

"Ha! Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?" Inga scoffs, smirking at Kristoph while holding his cigar stamp. "Because if it is, that ship sailed long ago, fruit loop. Ga'ran dedicated 27 years of marriage to doing just that. There's nothing you can do to me that can compare to the hell I had to go through since the day she forced me to marry her."

"I'm very much aware of your home life, Minister. After all, it's one of the reasons why these episodes are aired on a monthly basis." Kristoph states nonchalantly with a grin.

"What's that supposed to mean? Am I missing something?" Inga asks with a look of confusion.

"Oh, nothing… So, Minister, what is your wish? To relive your life before you were married to Queen Ga'ran?" The psychotic host of _Debauched Steel_ asks with a sinister undertone.

"Nice try, fruitcake, but I'm wise to how you slimy attorneys work." Inga sneers as he chomps down on his cigar stamp. "I'll tell ya one thing, and you'll twist my words into something else for a sick laugh. Like if I took your suggestion, I'd probably be warped back to the exact moment when Ga'ran got her hooks in me and dragged me off to my wedding."

"You're not as dense as I thought, Minister."

"Figures. See, we have a saying back in Khura'in: the only good kind of attorney is a mute one." Inga chuckles.

Kristoph rolls his eyes. "My, what a wonderful country you live in. Do your people also believe that photography steals souls?"

"Nah. We're good with photographs. See, we believe that a person's soul can only leave the body after it dies." Inga calmly explains, completely oblivious to Kristoph subtly insulting his homeland. "As for my wish, it has nothing to do with Ga'ran- I got what I wanted when my boys blasted her vehicle to kingdom come with a bazooka. But to make sure I get exactly what I want without any of your dirty tricks, I'm gonna tell you my wish step-by-step. First, I want you to bring Amara, my wife's bitch of a sister, back to life unchanged- not missing any body parts, not undead, and not fused with any other people or animals… Oh, and make sure she can't run away. I need her here for the next part."

"Fine. If that's how you want things…" Kristoph snaps his fingers, warping Amara, who is alive and unaltered in any way, in front of them with her legs shackled together.

"Good. Now for the second part of my wish; but first…" Inga punches Amara in the face, sending her tumbling to the ground. "That's for all those times you knew Ga'ran made me have sex with her and did nothing to help!" Inga yells as he kicks his former sister-in-law in the stomach.

"Are you done?" Kristoph asks, making sure to take a step back away from the irate minister.

"Yeah, just airing out some old laundry... Now for the second and most important part: I want you to force Amara to channel the spirit of Her'nahm Iz Empor'san T'sou Khura'in, a.k.a the Holy Mother!" Inga bellows at the top of his lungs with his chest puffed out and arms outstretched.

"Let me get this straight." Kristoph snarls as his left eye begins to twitch. "When given the chance to make a wish for anything in the world, and I mean _anything_ \- power, money, retribution, the ability not to speak like a stereotypical 40's mobster- you waste it by having me perform the ludicrous, unrealistic task of channeling the founder of your nation- a woman with a sickeningly forced pun for a name, none the less!"

"Watch your mouth, ya mook. That spiritual mumbo-jumbo's as real as you or me and I've seen it with my own eyes when my Rayfa does her dance of devotion, or when Snow Shit here would channel spirits to keep my viper of a wife in power." Inga states, glaring at Amara who continues to lie on the ground.

"Why do you think the Holy Mother's face is never shown or why her name isn't known to anyone outside of the royal family? For if her spirit's channeled, she'll bestow the first person she sees limitless spiritual power, granting them all those things you said and more- except the part about not speaking like a gangster. That's actually pretty fun and was one of the few pleasures I had in my hell of a marriage." The Minister states with a grin.

"Inga…" Amara sternly, yet softly, states, raising her hand towards the Minister of Justice in a futile attempt to appeal to his merciful side. "You must listen to me! The Holy Mother… There is a good reason why we made channeling her no easy feat, one that doesn't involve power!"

"Ha! That's rich, coming from you!" Inga scoffs with a venomous tone. "Your family has been running hotshot over our nation- making it a matriarchy where women are revered and the most a man can get from life is being a priest or a sad puppet to your kin- by riding on the coattails of your spiritually-powerful ancestor. Hell, you're no better than that Paul Atishon mook that I was working for me. Sure, he was an arrogant, greedy, cowardly, narcissistic bastard, but at least he didn't try to cover up the fact that the power he had was given to him, unlike you..."

"Inga, I will admit that the Holy Mother is an all-powerful being who is more than capable of doing what you have described to Mr. Gavin an more, but there is a much darker side to Her history that is only known by the queens of our nation and no other- a history that, if revealed to the public, would lead to the end of our fair nation. The Holy Mother is-"

"Save the melodrama for someone who hasn't been repeatedly sodomized by your sister, Amara!" Inga snarls before directing his attention to Kristoph. "Get on with it, Gavin! Force her to channel the Holy Mother!"

"Granted." Kristoph groans, disgruntled by the fact that he can't turn the Minister of Justice's wish against him, before snapping his fingers.

Suddenly, Amara is engulfed in a green ball of energy as dark clouds fill the sky, blocking out the sun and casting the area into utter darkness as numerous bolts of green lightning strike the ground around the two maniacal men.

"What the hell are ya doing, Gavin!" Inga yells over the roar of thunder with wide eyes filled with fear, which are quickly met with a glare from Kristoph who has used his powers to surround himself with a barrier for protection.

"None of this is my design! I only did what you asked, Minister!" The demented host of _Debauched Steel_ responds with a tone of frustration. "If you want to blame something for the current mayhem, look no further than the freakish religion of your twisted, backwater nation!"

Then, as quickly as they began, the lightning and thunder cease while the sky remains dark, followed by the ball of light diminishing to reveal Amara back on her feet and her legs unrestrained. However, Her Merciful's appearance is not as it was.

Her hair, normally a pleasant shade of lavender light enough in shade to be mistaken for the pure white of the first snow of winter, is now a tone of black so dark that it would appear that no light could escape. Her eyes, once a warm, inviting teal, have been morphed into cold, desolate, glowing emerald green that could bore holes in one's soul with the intensity of their glare. And while her frame remains completely unchanged, Amara's body now radiates a bright green aura of abundant spiritual power as her regular markings have been altered to simply a small red flower on the center of her forehead.

"Who has freed us from the Twilight Realm?" A loud, booming voice demands in a tone that manages to send shivers down even the Coolest Defense in the West's spine, though he would never admit it.

"I have, Your Holiness." Inga proclaims, smirking as he leans forward while chomping down on his cigar stamp to look as imposing as possible. "Now make with your side of the deal and give me my spiritual powers, see!"

"And why in our name would we do that?" The Holy Mother asks.

"It says right in the Founder's Orb's riddle that you're obligated to give immense spiritual power to the person who had you channeled. Now get on with it! I'm not getting any younger here- at least not after Ga'ran took 20 years off my life!"

"We owe you nothing, worm." The Holy Mother growls, her eyes narrowing into a fierce glare. "Be grateful that we are feeling generous since you freed us from our prison, otherwise we would have already struck you down for your insolence!"

"Listen here, Unholy Hag, I don't care who in Ga'ran's palace you think you are!" Inga snarls, squeezing and nearly snapping his cigar stamp in in two with his ironclad grip. "I spent 27 years married to _your_ cold, bitchy, sex-crazed sadist of a descendant who made every waking moment of my life a living hell! So I demand that you compensate me for all the crap that your family has put me through with spirit powers, a heartfelt apology, and a muffin basket, or I won't hesitate to send ya right back to where ya-"

Inga is interrupted as the Holy Mother raises her right hand, causing it, as well as her eyes, to glow a bright green as she absorbs Inga's soul, appearing in the form of a blue mist, into her body, leaving the Minister's corpse cold and lifeless as it falls face down on the ground.

"Unimpressive and disappointing- your soul feels just like how Ga'ran described you in her prayers to us, Inga." The Holy Mother sneers.

"What have I unleashed…?" Kristoph whispers to himself, his eyes widening to the size of saucers as he witnesses just what the founder of Khura'in is capable of.

"And what do we have here?" The Holy Mother purrs, a sinister grin forming on her face as she directs her attention to the host of _Debauched Steel_. "Your soul… You are no ordinary being, are you?"

"Perceptive. But that trait won't do much for you where you're going." Kristoph remarks with a snap of his fingers in an attempt to send the Holy Mother's spirit back to the Twilight Realm, but is shocked to find that she is unaffected by his powers.

"What is the meaning of this? Why aren't my powers working?" Kristoph asks himself in frustration as he repeatedly snaps his fingers, only managing to make the Holy Mother utter a haughty, refined, yet unsettling, giggle.

"You foolish woman…" The Holy Mother sneers.

"Woman!?" Kristoph yells as he glares daggers at the founder of Khura'in.

"We are a being beyond this world- one that has mastered the living, the dead, and everything in between!" The Holy Mother boasts with outstretched arms. "Your meager abilities are like a light breeze to us. However, while they are useless against us, that does not mean that they are not of use _for_ us."

Before Kristoph can react, the Holy Mother absorbs his soul as she did with Inga, causing her aura become larger and brighter as she gains the powers to bend reality belonging to the host of _Debauched Steel_.

"Yes…" The Holy Mother hisses, slowly clenching her fist as she savors her newfound powers coursing through her body. "With these new powers, combined with our unmatched spiritual abilities, nothing will stop us this time from conquering this world!"

Clapping her hands together, the Holy Mother floats into the air as she begins absorbing the souls of all the contestants killed during the _Debauched Steel_ demolition derby before proceeding to use Kristoph's powers to morph the entire planet's surface into the mountainous landscape of Khura'in, covering the skies in foreboding clouds and spreading the current darkness to all corners of the globe.

"We are the Holy Mother, and we welcome you to out new world order!" The founder of Khura'in cackles as green lightning and thunder fill the sky and a large emerald palace resembling the one inhabited by Ga'ran, only bigger and more imposing, bursts forth and rises from the ground behind her.

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank JordanPhoenix for submitting the idea for this chapter. I would also like to give my most sincere thanks to everyone who has contributed ideas for this fanfic. And for those who have submitted ideas for characters who have yet to appear, I have read your suggestions and will integrate them with their respective characters to the best of my ability while also keeping to my vision.


	20. Paul Atishon

**Name:** Paul Atishon

 **Vehicle:** Custom-made Election-winning Campaign Mobile _(Paul Atishon's mighty palanquin is not only a peerless vehicle when it comes to sharp turns and narrow streets, but it also brings jobs to the community. A vote for Paul Atishon is a vote for a job-filled future!)_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 2/5 _(Atishon knows that in today's world you can't afford to have a lightly armored vehicle, but he refuses to live in fear any longer! A vote for Paul Atishon is a vote for a leader who's willing to stand up to crime!)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 2/5 _(Atishon would prefer a speedier ride, but what can he do when the children pulling his palanquin can only run so fast? Fire them and get a motorized vehicle? Not on his watch! The greatest resource in Atishon's mind is not oil, coal, or money, but the welfare of his constituents. A vote for Paul Atishon is a vote for a leader who puts the people first and money and power in a very close second!)_

 **Vehicle Handling:** Very Tight _(Fueled by grandiose promises including, but not limited to, turning all of the world's oceans into chocolate sauce, marshmallow helicopters flown by unicorns, and a law mandating that those under ten can't be forced to go to bed before 11 p.m., the children currently pulling Atishon's palanquin do so with unbelievable precision. A vote for Paul Atishon is a vote for making children more productive through lies!)_

 **Special Weapon:** 4/5 _(Political Rally- Atishon's loud speeches go into overdrive as he makes rapid-fire absurd promises while mercilessly pursuing the other drivers, causing them to crash into each other as they try to escape from the racket. Sure, Atishon doesn't defeat them himself with this attack, but he is a man who strongly supports teamwork and community-wide cooperation. A vote for Paul Atishon is a vote for a stronger sense of community!)_

 **Bio:** Hello good people, I am Paul Atishon, a man whose name shall soon go down in the annals of history as the greatest politician to ever live. My grandfather is _the_ Abe Atishon, so with his political brilliance on my father's side, combined with the long, magnificent eyelashes that I got from my mother, I am invincible! In short, I am the chosen one, the golden boy, the political powerhouse destined to reclaim the glory of Kurain- like Neo from _The Matrix_ , only handsomer and with better ideas! That is why, if elected, I will not rest until another _Matrix_ trilogy is released with me playing the starring role. They will be so magnificent that films the likes of _Casablanca_ and _Citizen Kane_ will look like piles of manure in comparison! My films will have lasers, only the most modern of lingo, and giant robots. You heard me right, good people, giant fighting robots that punch and do whatever giant robots do. I mean, who doesn't like giant fighting robots? Nobody, that's who. So remember, good people, a vote for Paul Atishon is a vote for quality entertainment! And that is not all, I- Hey! What are you going, Mr. Cameraman? I'm not done gracing these fine people with my glorious presence! *loud beep*

Sorry about that interruption, good people. That cameraman had the audacity to attempt to stop my pre-show bio and deprive you of your daily dose of vitamin Atishon. How selfish! I swear, what kind of world do we live in where egomaniacal people like him are capable of calling the shots? That's why, if elected, I will bring my humbleness and modesty to Kurain's local council, being the small light of hope and decency that shines in the darkness of corruption and graft! A vote for Paul Atishon is a vote for a brighter future for all of humanity! I will dedicate all of my time and effort to pushing forth laws that shall greatly increase the overall quality of life for my Kurain brothers and sisters! Bubble wrap on every rock, all gun-users get shot, and all water shall be cleansed of hydrogen! For I shan't sit around while our children drink water with the same stuff that made the Hindenburg explode! I am Paul Atishon, I am the light of- Oh, hello there, good security guards! I am Paul Atishon! Have you come here to bask in-

* * *

As Kristoph waits by the side of the road for the winner of Debauched Steel to grant them any wish that they desire, he is greeted by a sight to behold: several small children, red-faced and gasping for air as sweat drips from their brows, pulling Atishon's palanquin towards him.

"Ah, Mr. Atishon, so glad you could make it." Kristoph says with a grin.

"No thanks to these lazy children! I'm surprised that the sun's still up, considering how long it took them to bring me here." Atishon wryly responds.

"We… We're sorry, Mr. Atishon! It's just, we're… *cough* so tired. You… You made us run nonstop during the competition. We just *cough* need a little bit of down time, is all." A small child, appearing to be no more than nine, wheezes as he struggles to remain conscious.

"The ungratefulness of today's youth…" Atishon comments, casting a passing glare at the children before returning his gaze to Kristoph. "I gave them all jobs, opportunities to serve not only their community, but their future king, and _this_ is how they repay my kindness, by whining and demanding breaks? There are children in Africa that would kill for that kind of opportunity! That is why, if elected into power, I will free the workers from the shackles of the oppressive unions that make them too entitled and complacent to achieve their dreams! A vote for Paul Atishon is a vote to keep the hopes and aspirations of our nation's youths alive and well!" The ambitious politician yells with a shake of his fist.

Kristoph rolls his eyes. "How do you expect people to vote for you when you can't even get adults to pull your palanquin?"

"Hey, it's not my fault that those miserable excuses for palanquin pullers refused to help me with this contest! They're still angry with me for what happened during one of my tours. I swear, your palanquin crushes all of your workers going down a steep hill and all of a sudden you're the bad guy for life. Granted, I refused to help pay their hospital bills, but I did send them all nice edible fruit bouquets."

"What a saint." Kristoph sarcastically groans.

"I know, I'm wonderful." Atishon grins, bobbing his head back and forth with closed eyes as he savors the complement. Granted, it was obviously sarcastic, but to the seedy politician, a compliment is a compliment. "… In life, when confronted with hardships, we are given the choice to go down one of two paths: we can either curl up in a little ball and cry about how unfair the world is, or we can rise above it and use that hardship to make us stronger. I, for one, have chosen the latter, and like the mighty phoenix of legend, I rise from the ashes of my defeat born anew!" The seedy politician yells, slamming his fist on his palanquin's armrest. "During my time in prison, I've had the opportunity to interact and get to know this city's criminal element on a deeper level than any other politician."

Kristoph chuckles as a sneer forms on his face. "Strange, because from what I know, the only interaction you've had with the other prisoners- with the exception of swatting them away in the cafeteria with a plastic spoon and calling them, and I quote, 'dirty street peasants'- is in the showers when-"

"Regardless of what unspeakable, mentally-scarring acts occurred within those prison walls, I now have a greater understanding of the common man than ever before. And with that understanding, I will quickly climb up the political ladder, making life better and longer for all the people blessed enough to be under my jurisdiction." Atishon puts a hand on Kristoph's arm as he continues speaking. "But with your powers, I wouldn't have to do all that. That's why my wish is for you to make me king of the Earth. With my charm, intelligence, and dashing good looks, I will usher in a golden age for the people of all nations as their lord and savior!"

 _And people say_ _ **I'm**_ _an egomaniac…_ "Granted." Kristoph responds with a sinister grin.

The demented host raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, Atishon finds himself in a lavish marble room, sitting on a large, golden throne surrounded by many imposing statues crafted in his image.

"What is this wonderful place?" Atishon askes with a tone of awe, admiring the many portraits on the walls of him. "Is it…?"

The aspiring politician get up from his throne and runs over to a nearby window, where sure enough, he sees several banners with his face on them with the phrase 'Praise King Atishon, Defender and Ruler of the Earth!' written bellow in big, bold letters.

"It is! I'm the king of the world…! And the best part is I didn't have to do any work!" Atishon smirks as he returns to his throne.

Suddenly, interrupting his moment of glory, Atishon hears loud banging on the large, opulent doors on the far side of the room before they are blown off their hinges by a large explosion, sending them flying towards him. Luckily, the doors don't cause the narcissistic politician any harm as they hit the ground before reaching him, sliding for a small window of time before coming to a halt right at his feet. Then, rushing forth from the explosion's smoke, a huge mob of people, all of whom are wearing wigs identical to Atishon's signature hairdo and carrying weapons of all shapes and sizes- pitchforks, torches, swords, guns, rocks, pillows with a slightly sour odor- rush at the politician, glaring daggers and pointing their weapons at him upon reaching the throne.

For any normal person, they would understandably be scared out of their wits upon seeing an angry mob casting them death glares, but Paul Atishon is by no means a normal man, and as such, responds to the enraged group not with trembling limbs and a sweat-drenched brow, but with a smug grin and a calm wave.

"Hello, good people. Those wigs are quite eye-catching, if I do say so myself. So, how can I, the great Paul Atishon, be of assistance to you kind folks?"

"Can it, Atishon!" Di-Jun Huang growls as he grips the handle of his pitchfork even tighter. "We've had enough of your crap! We're here for change!"

"Oh, if that's what you want…" Atishon pulls out some loose change from his pocket and quickly counts it over. "I've got change for a dollar. Is that sufficient, good sir!"

"Idiot!" Huang snarls, slapping the inept man's hand and sending the coins falling to the ground. "We don't want money; we want to be free from your tyrannical rule! To undo the many damages that you have done to the global population!"

"Me? Wronging people? As if I, the great and all-powerful Paul Atishon, am capable of such nonsense!" Atishon scoffs.

"Then why is education so limited and underfunded?" Wesley asks as he brandishes his usual book. "The only subjects students are allowed to study are the history of your life, the biology behind your family's genes, and the physics of how your hair style remains stable!"

"Those are the only things that anyone needs to know to live a happy, fulfilling life. Take me, for example. Those are all the things I know, and look how I turned out." Atishon retorts.

"Why aren't employees given any negotiation rights? I'm only paid in salty noodles and insults thanks to you!" Apollo angrily states as he raises the megaphone that he's holding, contemplating of whether or not to use it.

"Yeah! I work 161 hours a week and I can't even afford to buy a packet of ketchup!" Gumshoe angrily chimes in as he brandishes a pillow covered in a black mold which is emanating a very questionable odor."

"I'm motivating you to work harder and rise through the ranks! Maybe if you two were better at your jobs, you wouldn't be in this situation."

"Why is the only candy we're allowed to eat Circus Peanuts? What inhuman freak prefers those unholy abominations over sweet, delicious chocolate?!" Johnny Smiles shrieks, his body shaking and eyes bugging out, his knuckles whitening as his grip on his nightstick tightens.

"I'll have you know that Circus Peanuts are the greatest candy ever to be created in human history! You just lack the refined sense of taste to truly enjoy them. Plus, chocolate makes you fat. I'm only looking out for your health, good people!"

"Oh please, those issues are just the tip of the iceberg." Ema states, holding a bottle of luminol as she makes her way to the front of the mob. "You guys are forgetting this maniac's worst crime: mass water shortages! Seriously, the Earth is a massive desert and thousands of people are dying by the second due to thirst because of his Hydrogen Purge Act!"

"Hydrogen is evil! You should be praising me for ensuring that you all don't explode!"

Ema sprays luminol in Atishon's eyes, causing him to scream in pain.

"Without hydrogen, there is no water! Sure, it's quite explosive by itself, but when it's part of a polar molecule with oxygen, it's inert! All you did was drain every body of water, leading to the extinction of all aquatic life, and gradually kill everything else! We're the last humans alive!"

"I don't get why we're beating around the bush. Let's kill him and restore the natural order, with Zhang-Fa as the chief exporter of black leather, dragon-print pimp coats!" Huang bellows as he raises his pitchfork.

"YEAH!" The rest of the mob screams in unison, raising their weapons as well.

"Wait! Don't be so hasty, good people!" Atishon frantically retorts with an outstretched arm, his eyes filling with terror as the reality of his current situation starts to sink in. "Aren't I at least entitled to a fair trial?"

"Ok, we'll put it to a vote." Huang turns to face the rest of the mob. "All in favor of killing this vile man, raise your hand and say 'I'!"

"I!" The entire mob angrily bellows at the top of their lungs in unison, their hands raised high in the air resembling a thick, overgrown forest of malice and discontent.

"… All those opposed, say 'nay'!"

"Nay…" Atishon meekly replies as he slightly raises his hand.

"The people have spoken!" Huang roars, his arms held out wide and fingers tense. "Detain him!"

"With pleasure, sir!" Gumshoe replies with a salute before he and Lang approach the despised politician.

"No, stay back! I am not a crook!" Atishon yells, his back pressed against his throne. But unfortunately for him, his pleas fall on deaf ears as Gumshoe and Lang each grab one of his arms and drag him towards the magnificent palace's exit, with the rest of the mob following closely behind them.

* * *

Later, nearly everyone that was part of the mob is standing before a makeshift stage that has been constructed outside the palace, and at the center of that stage is a guillotine which Atishon's head is currently sticking out of as he awaits his execution.

"People of the world…!" Huang bellows as he walks onstage and over to the device holding the despised politician's neck. "We are gathered here today to put an end to the demon that has soiled the minds of our youths, crushed the spirit of the working man, ruined the world of candy, and has practically killed off all life on our planet. Fortunately, after his capture, we were able to locate and commandeer his water-siphoning robots, reclaiming our drinking supply and ensuring humanity's future! Now, to execute the demon known as Paul Atishon, and then afterwards, we shall work to rebuild our fallen world as humanity enters a golden age of rebirth!"

The crowd cheers as Lang prepares to release the guillotine's blade.

"You're all making a big mistake!" Atishon desperately pleads as he wriggles to no avail. "I am the chosen one, the golden boy, the light and savior of man! I am Paul-"

The despised politician is interrupted as the large blade cleanly decapitates him, his head falling into the wicker basket placed before his body as blood flows from his neck, like water from a fountain.

As the crowd cheers at the sight of Atishon's death, Kristoph stands in the shadows off to the side, close enough so that he could clearly see every gory detail of the execution, yet far enough away so that no one would notice him, chuckling to himself at the sight of his handiwork.

"Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before the head falls." Kristoph sneers at the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank HeroMan66475 for submitting the idea for this chapter.


	21. Simon Keyes

**Name:** Simon Keyes

 **Vehicle:** Transport Truck _(Simon would have preferred to use his hot air balloon, but Kristoph was quite steadfast in his stance that only ground vehicles may be used, so the mastermind had to settle for the truck used to move it. However, being the clever man that he is, Simon has found a way to incorporate the killer balloon into his battle strategy.)_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 4/5 _(Since this vehicle is used to transport a balloon weighing several hundred pounds, it would only make sense that it'd be made of sturdy stuff.)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 3/5 _(For a regular person, this stat would be only one, but as everyone knows, Simon is no regular person. He has places to be and doesn't care who or what he has to plow down in order to get there.)_

 **Handling:** Very Sluggish _(Simon may have been able to manipulate a paranoid prison warden into killing his childhood friend, as well as Edgeworth into bringing down said warden and a corrupt public official, but even he can't manipulate the properties of momentum.)_

 **Special Attack:** 5/5 _(Flying Monkey- They say that a monkey with a machine gun is a deadly force, but what about when that monkey's flying a hot air balloon? We don't know the answer to that, but the other contestants will as Money flies Simon's hot air balloon around the battlefield and relentlessly fires a stream of bullets at them from a Tommy gun. Granted, Simon and Money may not be on the best of terms, but they've managed to put aside their differences for the sake of survival.)_

 **Bio:** My life has been nothing but hell: my best friend betrayed and almost killed me, my ass of a dad disowned me without a second thought, and for more than a decade, I had one of the highest ranking prosecutors in the nation and even the president of Zheng Fa trying to hunt me down.

In the end, I got my revenge against all the people who wronged me: Horace, Roland, Blaise, the body double… And let me tell you, I never felt so good.

If I had to describe the feeling of finally getting sweet revenge after so many years, I'd compare it to opening your gifts on Christmas. You spend for what feels like an eternity watching, waiting, and thinking of nothing else, but when you finally make your move, it all becomes worthwhile when you see the fruits of your labor. However, instead of toys, you see destroyed lives and dead bodies.

But while I'm satisfied about how my plans for retribution unfolded, there's still one loose end that needs to be tied up…

* * *

In the empty, devastated streets of L.A., Kristoph stands face-to-face with Simon Keye's, the winner of _Debauched Steel_.

"Congratulations on your victory, Mr. Keyes." Kristoph calmly states with a warm grin.

"Oh, it was nothing. While most of those hapless fools were just driving around aimlessly and attacking anything they saw, I actually used strategy- avoiding their attacks as I waited for the proper time to strike." Simon smirks.

"I know the feeling. Being an intelligent man with a knack for careful planning myself, I find the idealistic fools of this world to be so laughably simpleminded that it's borderline pitiable. But it's those qualities that have made me and you some of the most formidable individuals that Wright and Edgeworth, respectively, have ever dealt with. We're two of a kind, you and I."

"Right…" Simon states with a roll of his eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kristoph growls, a scowl forming on his face as he glares at the smug ex-clown.

"Oh, it's nothing." Simon nonchalantly states. "Now, about my wish…"

"Don't lie to me, Keyes. I saw you roll your eyes at me when I stated how we were both formidable foes to Wright and Edgeworth. Now spill the information before I use my powers to spill your brain from your ear like tea from a kettle!" Kristoph snaps, his left eye beginning to twitch.

"You're not going to take it well…" Simon condescendingly states in a singsong tone, much like a mother warning her children that they'll get a tummy ache if they eat too much candy.

"I'm a big boy, Mr. Keyes. I am perfectly capable of controlling my emotions." Kristoph says with crossed arms and his left eye still twitching.

"Sure you are, Mr. Twitchy…" Simon wryly comments. "It's nothing personal, you're a smart guy and everything, but let's be real here- you're nowhere near my level."

"Well, aren't you an arrogant one, Mr. Keyes." Kristoph states as he pushes and holds his glasses up.

"I'm not arrogant, Gavin, I'm logical. Let's compare our crimes, shall we? In a little under three weeks, I managed to do the following: manipulate Roland into killing Knightley, manipulate Edgeworth into arresting both Roland and Blaise Debeste, and killed the man posing as the president of Zheng Fa. Whereas you on the other hand, managed to get an attorney disbarred, stalked said attorney for seven years like some crazed fanboy, and managed to successfully kill only two of your three intended targets."

"Hey, I wouldn't have been caught if it wasn't for Wright's dirty tricks, which included forged evidence and reshaping the entire legal for a single trial!" Kristoph snarls.

"Whatever. That still doesn't change the fact that you got a life sentence while I was only charged with justified self-defense and kidnapping." Simon states with a smirk and outstretched arms. "So tell me, Mr. Gavin, do you still think we're in the same class?"

"Yes. Even though our results are very different, that's because our motives, objectives, and the circumstances of our situations were completely different."

"Ah, yes… motives. For seven years, I was being hunted down like a dog by Blaise and that doppelganger president and plotted both their, and Roland's, downfalls for not only my safety, but as revenge for making me live a nomadic life in perpetual terror- reasons that can be seen as quite tragic and endearing. But then there are your crimes… So, Mr. Gavin, care to remind the class why you did what you did?" Simon asks with a grin.

"I'd… rather not talk about it." Kristoph states, flipping some loose bangs out of his face as he looks away from the ex-clown.

"Don't worry, Gavin. I completely understand." Simon reassures Kristoph as he pats the deranged host on the back. "I wouldn't want to talk about my motive either if it was because I lost a game of poker!" The ex-clown bursts out into laughter, cackling with a twisted, open-mouth grin as he sticks his tongue out at the host of _Debauched Steel_. "That's the kind of reason you'd expect from a child, not the legendary 'Coolest Defense in the West'!"

"For your information, Zak Gramarye was a very sore winner. That condescending sneer of his, coupled with his annoying laugh, is enough to drive even the most virtuous and even-tempered of people into the grips of madness!" Kristoph snarls as he glares daggers at the ex-clown.

"See? This is why I didn't want to go into this topic. You can't let things go and start grasping at straws. It's just plain sad!" Simon smirks with outstretched arms. "So before this conversation gets any more pitiful, I'm going to make my wish…"

"Oh, Mr. Perfect-Crime has some sort of issue? Because from how you've been acting, you pull apple pies out of your derriere while walking on water." Kristoph sneers.

"Granted, my plans worked with minimal issues, but there's still one loose end that I need to tie up, one person that I have yet to strike down: Gustavia." Simon states, his eyes narrowing with discontent as his father's name rolls off his tongue with a venomous tone.

"Why would you need to do that? Aren't you content with him being arrested for his crime?" Kristoph askes, coking his head in confusion.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that Edgeworth arrested that self-absorbed blowhard, but I wasn't behind it in any way. Had either Gustavia or Edgeworth decided not to go to that art gallery on that fateful day, that criminal desert chef wouldn't have to pay for all he's done. So that's where you come in, Gavin. I want you to use your powers to torture and Gustavia in an ironic fashion while I watch. Then, and only then, will my vengeance truly be complete." Simon says with a huge grin on his face.

"Granted." Kristoph raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, Simon is standing on a platform with Kristoph overlooking a giant pan of cake batter which has Gustavia's limp, unconscious head sticking out from the top.

Suddenly, the ex-dessert chef wakes up, flopping around in a futile attempt to get his footing as he stares wild-eyed at the duo standing above him. But unfortunately, no matter how much Gustavia struggles, he is kept stationary by the indestructible batter.

"What is the meaning of this, Sir Host?! Why am I stuck in cake batter?!" Gustavia roars.

"Oh, I just figured that you'd be more at home in it, considering how much love desserts." Simon states nonchalantly with a slight grin.

"Sir Host, who is this strange clown besides you?"

"I'm hurt, Gustavia…" Simon says with a tone and face of mock sadness. "Don't you recognize your own son?" The ex-clown asks as a sinister grin spreads across his face.

"You jest, Sir Clown!" Gustavia bellows with a hearty laugh. "My son would never be a clown; he would be a mighty dessert chef like his father before him!"

"Lemon drops." Simon coldly states as he glares down at the man who had the gall to abandon him.

"What?" Gustavia asks with a look of confusion.

"One of the first desserts you ever had me taste was lemon drops. You were preparing them for the Garry Demmes Elementary winter bake sale and wanted to make sure they were perfect." Simon chuckles. "…Well good thing you ran them past me, because you had to revise the dish twice- once because the cookies were a little too sour, and another because they were a bit too sweet."

"Impossible! The only person who could possibly know that is… Junior, is that you!?" Gustavia roars with evident shock in his voice.

"Dane Gustavia Junior died in a freezing car back in 2000 when you selfishly chose to pursue your dreams instead of searching for him, and from his death, Simon Keyes was born! But ironically, while I've disowned your name, partially because I couldn't remember it for over 18 years, I couldn't rid myself of the one trait that definitively proves that I'm your son: the ability to relentlessly pursue my desires, no matter what horrid acts I must do or who I must strike down! And what I desire now is to bake you into a dessert, considering how much you love them!" Simon cackles as he bursts into a fit of maniacal laughter.

"This is madness! You're killing your own flesh and blood…!" Gustavia roars, pausing to dip his finger in the batter to taste it, only to immediately spit it out. "In batter that has too little sugar and vanilla extract, no less!" The ex-dessert chef adds, surprisingly sounding angrier at the batter's taste over his long-lost son trying to kill him.

"What can I say? I guess poor taste runs in the family. Hopefully, you'll make the dish taste a whole lot better." Simon sneers, pushing a button on a nearby panel and activating a conveyor belt that slowly sends the pan and Gustavia into a large oven.

"Please, Junior! Have mercy on your poor father! I may have abandoned you, but I can still make things right! I'll restart my career as a chef with you as my trusty taste-tester, just like old times. But since you're older, I can give you even more responsibilities, like using the measuring cups and stirring. And if you prove capable enough, I can even groom you to be my successor. Yes, with my dessert-making blood pumping through your veins, you can be a legendary dessert chef in your own right!" Gustavia pleads, his eyes bugging out as he breaks out in a cold sweat that transitions into a warm one as he approaches the oven.

"I have no father… not after you left me for dead. But look on the bright side, I'll follow in your footsteps as a dessert chef… with you as my first dish!" Simon wryly comments, bursting into another fit of maniacal laughter as Gustavia finally fully enter the oven and the door slams behind him.

"You know, Gavin, they say that revenge is a dish best served cold, but I personally prefer it burnt." Simon wryly remarks as he gazes upon the oven with a twinkle of sadistic satisfaction in his eyes as the muffled screams of his despised father fill the air,.

"I'm glad you think that way, Mr. Keyes…" Kristoph smirks as he snaps his fingers, causing the floor to open up beneath the ex-clown.

Thankfully, Kristoph grabs Simon's wrist before the red-haired man can fall to his doom into one of the massive stove's burners, which is currently expelling a large column of flame.

"What the heck, Gavin? Are you trying to get me killed?!" Simon shrieks, his terror-filled eyes alternating between the demented host's grinning face and the certain death waiting below.

Kristoph shakes his head with a chuckle. "Not at all, Mr. Keyes. I just simply want to show you that I'm more than capable of letting go." The host of _Debauched Steel_ sneers as he releases Simon's wrist.

"GAVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!" Simon screams as he falls into the roaring fire below.

"You know, Mr. Keyes, you really should learn not be so melodramatic." Kristoph wryly comments, staring down at the large flame before directing his attention to the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank Sdarkynecro for submitting the idea for this chapter.


	22. Juniper

**Name:** Juniper Woods

 **Vehicle:** Flower Power ( _If Juniper has to compete in Kristoph's demented competition, she might as well help out Mother Nature by driving a smart car with a single pink flower sticker on the side._ )

 **Vehicle Armor:** 1/5 ( _Unfortunately for Juniper, her vehicle offers all the protection of a wet cardboard box on a windy day, but at least it's small, making it a harder target to hit… but not impossible._ )

 **Vehicle Speed:** 2/5 ( _Being the sweet, demure girl that she is, Juniper has never had the inclination to drive aggressively or fast at any point in her life. And even if she wanted to, she couldn't on account of her weak constitution._ )

 **Vehicle Handling:** Very tight ( _Sure, Flower Power's small size and lackluster armor means that it'll be crushed like a bug if ever in a collision, but what it lacks in defense, it more than makes up for in turning capabilities._ )

 **Special Weapon:** 5/5 ( _Mist of Paralysis- By expelling a large cloud of powder made of the infamous curare plant from Flower Power, Juniper is able to temporarily paralyze all nearby drivers whose vehicles aren't sealed airtight. Why a girl like Juniper has a paralyzing plant on her person, you may ask? She went to a school where Aristotle Means was a professor. Connect the dots._ )

 **Bio:** Hello, I'm *Cough! Cough!* Sorry, I- *Cough!* I suffer from coughing fits when I'm- *Cough! Cough!* nervous… Ok, I'm better now. As I was saying, ever since I was a little girl, I've had a deep love of plants- they're beautiful, provide fresh air, and remind me of many spring days in which I would walk through the forest with my grandmother. But unfortunately, massive, soulless corporations don't care about those kinds of things as they mercilessly clear-cut our forests to build shopping malls and pave over our fields to make parking lots! Well, the plants may not be able to fight back, but once this is all over, they won't have to.

* * *

Having come out of the competition victorious, Juniper Woods stands before Kristoph Gavin, the host of _Debauched Steel_ , to claim her prize: a single wish for anything her heart desires. However, the aspiring judge finds the act of claiming her prize easier said than done as she bursts into a violent fit of coughing.

"Cough drop?" Kristoph calmly asks as he extends his hand out, prompting a clear bottle of hard, yellow lozenges to appear in his palm.

Juniper takes a long whiff from one of the sunflowers on her hat. "No thank you, Mr. Gavin. It's just… I… I start coughing when I'm nervous." The young woman meekly replies as she eyes the ground, occasionally glancing up to look at Kristoph's grinning face.

"Well now, I don't see why you should be, considering that you're the winner of _Debauched Steel_.

"Yes… but you're… you're…" Juniper stammers, pulling her wide-brimmed hat over her eyes out of fear.

"A psychopath? Killer? Deranged television host with godlike powers and perfectly manicured nails?" Kristoph smirks.

"Y-Yes…" *Cough! Cough!*

"Well, worry not, Ms. Woods, for you are in no danger." Kristoph calmly reassures Juniper as he gently puts a hand on her shoulder, prompting her to peek a wide, apprehensive eye from underneath her hat.

"I'm not?"

"Of course. I may be a killer and a destroyer of lives, but there is a method to my madness. I only hurt those who have wronged me, and I assure you that I bear no malicious feelings towards you. However, if you hesitate in making your wish, as the uncultured youths of today would say, 'your ass will be grass'." Kristoph sneers, prompting Juniper to gulp as she pulls on her pigtails.

"S-Sorry… My wish…" *Cough! Cough! Cough!* "My wish is-" *Cough! Cough!* "My-" *Cough! Cough! Cough! Cough!*

Juniper takes a long whiff from one of the sunflowers on her hat as the demented host of _Debauched Steel_ lets out a sigh of mild irritation and pushes up his glasses.

"Sorry about that… My wish is for humans and plants to live in harmony."

"Granted." Kristoph states with a sinister grin.

The demented host raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, Juniper finds herself in a version of Los Angeles identical to her own, only filled to the brim with plant life- towering trees growing in the middle of the streets, skyscrapers covered from top-to-bottom with thick vines, and flowers springing up from nearly every crack in the sidewalk.

"Wow!" Juniper gasps as she gazes around the modified city. "Mr. Gavin really made this place so much lovelier, just like the forest back home! Plus, the air… it's so much fresher…!" The aspiring judge sighs, taking in a deep breath. "Though I can't help but wonder where everyone else is…"

At that moment, Gumshoe, who is screaming in terror, bumps into Juniper as he sprints by a full speed, inadvertently knocking her to the ground with little effort.

"Ow…" Juniper moans as she stares up at the noodle-loving detective with tear-filled eyes.

"Sorry about that, pal." Gumshoe sullenly states as he helps the young woman back up on her feet. "I was trying so hard to get away from them that I wasn't watching where I was going. Hope I didn't hurt you too badly."

"I'm… I'm more startled than anything, really. But who are you running away from?" Juniper asks as she cocks her head in confusion.

"Them!" Gumshoe shrieks, pointing a large, shaky arm as a large hoard of red, blue, and yellow plant-like creatures about three centimeters in height charges towards him.

"Aw! They're so cute!" Juniper squeals with clasped hands against her cheek. "What harm could such small, adorable things do?"

"They're pikmin, pal! And while they may look cute, they- Ah, they got me! Save yourself, pal!" Gumshoe wails as dozens of pikmin swarm him, pulling the large detective to the ground with their sheer numbers as they bludgeon him with the appendages on their heads, some with leaves, others with buds, and the rest with flowers.

Upon seeing Gumshoe taken down by the pikmin, Juniper runs around a corner, where she witnesses several rotund purple pikmin and yellow pikmin with large, pointy ears slowly carrying Apollo down the street.

"Please put me down." Apollo grumbles with a disheartened expression. "I- Wait, this isn't what I meant! This isn't fine!" The attorney screams as the pikmin put him down under a yellow, bulbous object with a black and white band running across its midsection that is suspended by three stilt-like legs, prompting a beam of light to be emitted by the structure which pulls him inside.

"Apollo!" Juniper shrieks at the sight of her crush being beamed up by this strange object.

After a few seconds, the object releases several yellow seeds from the large, white flower on top of it, which take root upon landing on the ground before quickly sprouting into yellow pikmin, prompting the aspiring judge to flee once more.

As Juniper runs through the plant-infested city, she quickly learns that Gumshoe an Apollo aren't the only ones who are suffering and that the pikmin are just the tip of the iceberg- witnessing Franziska fighting against a large, bipedal plant with a bulbous red and white polka dot head with yellow petals that is wearing a matching speedo and losing quite badly, Phoenix and Edgeworth lying on the ground, desperately squirming, but to no avail, under the massive girth of a scowling, green, man-sized squash, and the seedy man who pretended to be Director Hotti being pestered by small, black specters with glaring red eyes and stumps on their heads with two branches resembling horns.

As Juniper gazes upon what her world has become, her eyes the size of saucers as she stands completely motionless out of fear, she reels back as she sees Athena get blasted into the wall of a nearby building by a being wearing a suit of sky-blue armor covered in spikes and jewels and a matching helmet that covers his face.

"Is that all you've got?" Athena huffs as she limps towards the armor-cladded being, gripping her right shoulder which was dislocated upon impact with the building.

"You simple-minded fool…" The knight-like being sneers with a shake of his head. "When you and the rest of your miserable kind are returned to The Void, remember that it was I, Exdeath, who sent you there. Now die!"

Exdeath raises his arms, causing a black orb to appear out of thin air and engulf Athena as it starts to grow, consuming everything that it touches.

"Thena…!" Juniper shrieks, falling to her knees as she is overcome with grief. "No! This wasn't what I wanted!" The aspiring judge screams in frustration as tears stream down her reddened cheeks. "We were supposed to live in peace with the plants, not dominated by them as their enemies!"

"Oh, but I assure you, Ms. Woods, not all plants in this new world hate humans." Kristoph telepathically states to Juniper. "In fact, there are several that would love to get to know you better… as dinner. Just ask Diababa."

"Diababa…?" Juniper questions as she hears the sound of moving water behind her.

Upon turning around, the aspiring judge sees a large pond filled with purple water, from which a massive olive-green plant with two brown appendages, one on each side with a bulbous head and fangs, emerges from the water, opening its tri-hinged mouth as it lets out a bloodcurdling roar, revealing a huge orange eye on its tongue.

Unfortunately for her, Juniper is unable to react before the massive plant lunges at her, devouring the aspiring judge whole and then proceeding to let out another loud roar.

As this is happening, Kristoph watches the scene unfold from atop a barren hill on the outskirts of the city, perfectly safe from the hostile flora.

"Flowers are without hope. Because hope is tomorrow and flowers have no tomorrow. And now, Ms. Woods, neither do you." Kristoph sneers before turning to the camera. "I am Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank JordanPhoenix for submitting the idea for this chapter.


	23. Regina

**Name:** Regina Berry

 **Vehicle:** Fifi _(A Fiat 500 so pink that it puts Pepto-Bismol to shame and, like its owner, has enough glitter on it to blind any unsuspecting person who looks at it for too long.)_

 **Vehicle Armor:** 2/5 _(As long as Fifi's shinny and pink, defense is but a mere afterthought to Regina.)_

 **Vehicle Speed:** 5/5 _(Regina may have the face of an angel, but her eerily optimistic disposition makes her the perfect speed demon.)_

 **Handling:** Moderate _(Regina doesn't need any fancy turning as long as she has a smile on her face.)_

 **Special Attack:** 3/5 _(Animal Arena- Upon seeing that their beloved trainer's life is in danger- even if she herself doesn't realize it- all of the animals that perform for the Berry Big Circus rush into the heat of battle and attempt to fight off all who dare to threaten Regina's safety. Since the effects of this attack vary depending on what animals the driver runs into- ranging from birds defecating on their windshield to a gorilla smashing in their hood- the rating is based on the average score earned by every animal.)_

 **Bio:** Ohmygosh, I'm on t.v.! Hi, Uncle Moe! Hi, Max! Hi, Trilo! Hi, Acro! Hi, Simon! Hi, Ben! Hi, Reginal! Hi, Astique! Hi, Money! Hi, Acro's birds! I can't believe that I'm finally a t.v. star! Now I can tell everyone in the whole world about how great the Berry Big Circus is! Really, all you guys watching this, go to the Berry Big Circus for a show or two! I promise that you'll have the funnest time of your lives because we've got all kinds of cool stuff: Max flying with his magic, Trilo singing while punching Ben, Uncle Moe's funny jokes- ok, that last one may be a bit hit-or-miss, but the rest of our stuff's a real blast! I mean, you get to see me and all my animal friends! So come on down to the Berry Big Circus for a "Berry" good time! Yay! Oh, Mr. Camera Guy, since I'm on t.v., where can I meet Marvin the Martian? He has such a cute doggy!

* * *

Kristoph stands off on the side of the road, face-to-face with Regina Berry, the victor of _Debauched Steel_ who has come to claim her prize.

"Congratulations, Ms. Berry! As the winner of _Debauched Steel_ , you-" Kristoph is interrupted as Regina grabs his hair and starts stroking it as one would a puppy. "What are you doing?"

"Oh my gosh, your hair is sooo soft! It's like a silk napkin! You've gotta tell me how you get it like this!" The young animal tamer squeals.

"Oh, nothing much- brushing it thoroughly every morning, washing it every night, and hours of styling that you're making pointless with each successive stroke. Now get off!" Kristoph growls as he pushes the blonde girl away.

"Geeze, you're a big meanie!" Regina huffs with crossed arms.

"Yes, I'm mean, mean man." Kristoph wryly comments as he pushes his glasses up. "So unless you want me to become meaner, make your wish."

"Wait, the prize is really a wish?" The young animal tamer asks as she cocks her head in confusion.

"Are you serious?" Kristoph askes as he glares at Regina. "That was one of the first things to come out of my mouth when I was explaining the competition from within my giant, flying dirigible. What, were you too busy staring at something shiny instead of paying attention to the man who can currently bend reality to his will?"

"Give me some credit, Mr. Host Guy; I've stopped getting distracted by shiny stuff since I was 12. But while I was busy daydreaming about talking marshmallow bunnies and unicorns playing piano for most of your speech, I heard the part about the prize being a wish. It's just that I thought you were exaggerating and would just give us a lot of money or a year's supply of ice cream or something."

"Yes, because I had you all kill each other, fighting until only one person was left standing, to give you a year's worth of ice cream. Common sense, use it." Kristoph irritably states, prompting Regina's eyes to widen in shock as she took a step back.

"So… So those weren't robots?"

"Correct. Each and every contestant was a living, breathing person who was brutally killed in some way, shape, or form… except you- an accomplishment worthy of my praise."

"WAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" Regina wails as she bursts into tears.

"What? I was complimenting you. What do you want, a standing ovation?" Kristoph asks in a cross tone.

"WAAAAAAAAAAHHH! Uncle Moe's dead! Max is dead! Everyone is dead! Now I'm alone and the Berry Big Circus will also die!" Regina sobs.

"I can understand why you'd be upset, but don't forget that you are the winner of _Debauched Steel_. You can simply use your wish to bring back all of your loved ones from the grave. Easy as that."

"But, I-I don't want them to come back as zombies and eat my brain." Regina whimpers.

"Yes, we wouldn't want that to happen now, would we?" Kristoph smirks. _Guess she isn't as dumb as I thought. Oh well, there's always Athena Cykes…_

"But I can't just let the Berry Big Circus die with them. So for my wish, I just want some performers to take over their duties."

"Do you have any particular roles in mind, or do you just want a spread of different performers?" Kristoph asks with a sinister grin.

"Let's see…" Regina ponders as she taps her chin in contemplation. "We definitely need a clown and a magician. Uncle Moe and Max were the biggest performers, especially since Uncle Moe took on clown duty- in addition to being ringleader- after Simon was arrested. Oh, we also need an acrobat."

"I see… And what of Mr. Woodman and Trilo? Don't you wish to find someone to fill their… unique shoes?"

"No, not really. Don't get me wrong, Ben and Trilo are really nice and funny guys, but our audiences are very polarized on them. They usually either think that Ben and Trilo are the best performers with their snappy, fast-paced dialogue, or they feel really creeped out about Ben being so submissive and Trilo flirting with all the moms that he feels are 'grade-A M.I.L.F.'.

"Well, in that case…"

Kristoph raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, Regina notices that it's still just her and Kristoph, much to her confusion, as she scans the area.

"Umm, Mr. Host Guy, are your powers broken? Because I don't see anybody."

"Oh, don't worry, Ms. Berry. They'll be here momentarily." Kristoph smirks as the sound of a roaring engine can be heard. "Well, speak of the devil... or rather, the clown."

At that moment, an ice cream truck with a white chassis and pink polka dots, as well as a large macabre clown head with a maniacal, toothy smile and flaming red hair mounted on the roof, speeds towards the duo before coming to an abrupt stop.

"Somebody order a clown?" The driver balefully asks in masculine tone as he rolls down his window to reveal his appearance: a muscular man whose only clothes are a pair of clown pants that match the color scheme of his truck held up by red suspenders, and whose face is covered by a mask resembling a clown's face, only with red pupils, yellow scleras, and a mouth filled with pointed teeth. Though his most distinguishing feature is his hair, which isn't actually hair, but rather bright yellowish-orange flames.

"And an acrobat?" Another male voice asks as the passenger window rolls down to reveal a lanky, teal-skinned man with short, scraggily red hair and a beard to match and wearing tattered rags for clothes held together by orange safety pins.

"Ah, excellent timing gentlemen. Ms. Berry, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Needles Kane, your new clown, and Mr. Augustus Aquato, acrobat extraordinaire."

"Hee hee! They look funny!" Regina chirps as she hops up and down out of excitement. "Tell me a joke, Mr. Needles!"

"Alright, what's red, dead, and as flat as a pancake?" Needles asks in a foreboding tone.

"Hmm… I don't know. What?" Regina responds after taking a moment to think.

"You in about ten seconds."

"I don't get it."

"You will in a moment." Needles smirks as his truck speeds towards Regina, only to narrowly miss hitting her as she jumps out of the way.

"What's wrong with you?!" Regina shrieks. "You could have killed me!"

"Don't worry, cupcake, I won't make that mistake twice." The psychotic clown replies as he revs up his engine.

"Help me, Mr. Host Guy!" Regina pleads with terror-filled eyes, only to find that Kristoph is no longer in the area.

However, the blonde animal tamer doesn't have the luxury to ponder where the demented host of _Debauched Steel_ has gone off to as she once again jumps out of the way of the speeding ice cream truck.

"Hold still, you little brat!" Needles snarls as his flame grows out of anger.

Regina, realizing that she isn't going to get any assistance, wastes no time in returning to her own vehicle and speeding away as fast as possible.

"And so the fun begins…" Needles sneers as he and Augustus drive after the animal tamer.

"I don't know what's worse, the fact that psycho is trying to kill me or that his jokes are way funnier than Uncle Moe's!" Regina bemoans as she sees a missile shaped like a chocolate ice cream cone soar past her car and crash into the side of a nearby building and explode. "What was that?"

Regina looks in her rearview mirror to find Needle's ice cream truck pursuing after her as it launches another ice cream cone missile from its grill- this time vanillia- which Regina dodges by swerving out of the way.

"I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream…! though some of us scream for different reasons." Needles chuckles as he fires several more ice cream cone missiles at Fifi, only for Regina to dodge each and every one of them.

"Argh! What is wrong with you!? Why aren't you hitting her, you useless oaf?!" Augustus snaps.

"What do you think I'm doing, you overgrown string bean? Maybe I'd have better luck if you weren't busy being such a backseat driver!" Needles snarls as his grip on the steering wheel tightens.

"Well maybe I wouldn't be so irritable if you weren't trying to roast me to death! Would it kill you to turn on the AC?"

"It will when the air blows my flames into the upholstery and lights the truck on fire! I know it isn't comfortable, but when you've been cursed to have a damn campfire on your scalp by some nutty pastor, you've gotta make sacrifices!"

"You clowns are so overdramatic with your excuses! My family has been cursed to die in water for generations, but you don't see me complaining about it, do you!?"

"Go swing on a trapeze, acrobat, because I've got her in my sights…" Needles smirks as he positions the truck directly behind Fifi.

However, before the psychopathic clown can open fire, Astique rushes out from a side street and rams the truck at full force, causing it to be toppled onto its side as it slides off the road and crashes into a nearby building.

"Whew…" Regina sighs in relief upon seeing her trusty elephant friend take care of her problem. "Thank Astique!" The young animal tamer chirps as she waves back to the elephant, which, after waving back to her trainer with her trunk, slowly walks away.

"Damn it!" Needles snarls as punches the steering wheel with both hands, causing the horn to blare.

"Good going, clown!" Augustus hisses with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh, like you're a freaking wellspring of ideas?"

"No, but I _am_ an acrobat!" Augustus boasts as he leaps out of the vehicle and, using the skills of his trade, scales to the roof of the skyscraper via entering an alley next to the building and leaping between its wall and that of another building.

Upon reaching the top of the tall building, Augustus uses his powerful legs to leap from rooftop to rooftop as he chases after Regina; and right as she is about to drive out of range, the acrobat throws several spiked juggling pins at Fifi. Though unfortunately for Regina, she is unaware of the hazardous projectiles until two of them puncture the tires on her car's left side, causing it to swerve off the road.

Thankfully, Regina is unharmed as she finds herself at the entrance to the Berry Big Circus and wastes no time in leaving her vehicle and rushing into the tent.

"Oh, if only Max was here! He'd use his magic to fly me away to safety!" Regina bemoans.

"Did somebody say magic?" A whimsical voice askes.

"Who said that?" Regina questions as she scans the tent, finding no other person present.

"I did." The being replies as he appears out of thin air, and is nothing like the animal tamer had ever seen before. His body is paper-thin and his pitch-black hands float off to his sides, not connected to any arms. His outfit consists of a purple and yellow-striped cape and a matching cap, and in between said cap and cape lies his neckless face which resembles a theatre mask- the left half black with a yellow eye and the right half purple with a black eye- with a red grin for a mouth.

"Who are you?" Regina asks with a look of sheer awe.

"I am the master of dimensions, the pleaser of crowds. I am… Dimentio!" The being says with a bow. "I heard that you were in need of a magician. So here I am to liven things up, like a drunkard at a karaoke bar."

"Sorry, Mr. Dimentio. I'm sure you're a pretty good magician, but with the way my day's been going, I've decided not to hire any new performers for the time being." The animal tamer bemoans with a worn-out expression.

"Your words, they hurt me like an arrow fired into my heart by an angry archer!" The jester states as he puts a hand to his heart. "Perhaps a demonstration of my skills will change your mind, yes?" Dimentio snaps his fingers, transporting both himself and Regina to a small green room. "Behold, fair maiden, a dimension of my own creation, Dimension D! So, are you impressed?"

"I'm just happy to get away from those creeps who were chasing after me. Thank you, Mr. Dimentio!" Regina chirps.

"I'm glad that you're enjoying the show, but performance is complete with just a single act?" Dimentio snaps his fingers, transporting Needles and Augustus into the room.

"No! Not them!" Regina screeches as she backs against the wall.

"Oh, the sweet look of terror in your eyes, like that of a child who has been bullied and touched inappropriately on the school bus! Now, let's begin the second act of this little program."

"Took the words outta my mouth." Needles sneers as he pulls out a chainsaw.

"Let's see just what she's got." Augustus chimes in as he starts juggling several spiked pins that have spontaneously combusted.

"Alright then, it's showtime!" Dimentio excitedly proclaims as he lifts his right index finger, causing a purple sphere of energy to form on his fingertip.

The three men proceed to slowly approach Regina as she cowers and whimpers with her back pressed to the wall.

Meanwhile, back in the _Ace Attorney_ universe, Kristoph laughs as he watches Dimentio, Needles, and Augustus brutally murder Regina on a television from the safety of his dirigible.

"The circus is the only fun you can buy that is good for you… unless, of course, you're the animal tamer." Kristoph sneers. "I am Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank The Scollard for submitting the idea for this chapter.


	24. Apollo

**Name:** Apollo Justice

 **Vehicle:** Bike ( _Yes, Apollo is riding a bike; and yes, that bike is literally named 'Bike'. We urged Apollo to pick a more creative name for his vehicle, but he was steadfast in his refusal, stating, "Giving a bike that I've ridden every day since high school some epic name in an attempt look cool is about as effective as trying to impress your friends by getting Mr. Wright to play the piano for them."_ )

 **Vehicle Armor:** 1/5 ( _If it wasn't bad enough that this vehicle provides little protection if any, it's being operated by someone with Apollo's disposition. Think about it: Apollo is constantly ridiculed by friends and enemies alike, is forced to assist his boss' daughter in her terror-filled magic shows against his free will, and lost both his best friend and foster father within the course of a year. What does the poor man have to live for?_ )

 **Vehicle Speed:** 1/5 ( _Do you honestly think Apollo will be peddling anywhere quickly with those stumpy legs of his? Don't glare at us like that, Apollo, you know it's true._ )

 **Handling:** Very Tight ( _Apollo may deserve ridicule for his ridiculous hairstyle and deafeningly loud voice, but give the man some credit. He's at least capable of turning a bike._ )

 **Special Attack:** 5/5 ( _Chords of Steel- Using his infamously loud voice, Apollo creates a shockwave that deals tremendous damage to surrounding enemies, as well as a barrier that protects him from most attacks._ )

 **Bio:** I'm Apollo Justice, and I am not fine…! Oh, come on! My voice isn't _that_ loud…! Ok, I'll tone it down. See, this is the sort of stuff I have to deal with on a daily basis, along with practically never getting paid and people making fun of my hair every chance they get. Well, after today, at least one of those things will change for the better.

* * *

After overcoming the many dangers and challenges posed by his opponents, Apollo Justice has emerged from _Debauched Steel_ victorious, winning the opportunity to wish for anything he could possibly desire. All that's left for him to do is meet with Kristoph Gavin, the host of Debauched Steel and his first mentor- a task more daunting to the young attorney than anything that the competition could throw at him.

"Congratulations on your victory, Mr. Justice. From the moment we first me, I always knew that you were a cut above the rest." Kristoph warmly states with a tone of absolute sincerity.

"Thanks… Mr. Gavin." Apollo hesitantly replies as he nervously ruffles his 'horns'.

"Come now, Apollo, we're far from strangers. There's no need for you to act so distant."

"Wait. You don't hate me?" The red-cladded attorney asks with a puzzled look.

"Whatever do you mean, Apollo? For what reason would I have to feel any sort of animosity towards you?" Kristoph responds with his usual calm grin.

"Well, I'm the reason that you were… you know… sent to jail." Apollo reluctantly states, nervous as to what repercussions he would face by reminding his former mentor of their rocky past.

"Rest assured, Apollo, you're not why I was convict of Shadi Smith's murder. Wright was…" Kristoph snarls, saying Phoenix's name with pure venom and hate in his voice. "You were merely doing your job in proving your client's innocence, and as your mentor at the time, I couldn't be any prouder. It's not your fault that your client was a despicable man whose lack of morals and civility are rivaled only by his inability to play the piano."

"Hold it!" Apollo yells, assertively pointing his finger at the host of _Debauched Steel_. "You're in no position to talk about morality after all the things you've done!"

"And yet Wright is?" Kristoph coolly states as he pushes his glasses up. "Sure, I may have killed a man, but at least I can admit it. But Wright, on the other hand, walks around as if he has done no wrongs."

"I agree with you that Mr. Wright is no saint, especially after all the things he's let Trucy do to me, but at least he didn't try to poison a man and his daughter!"

"My, my, Mr. Justice. That's quite the heavy claim. Do you have any definitive evidence linking me to the poisoning of the Mishams?" Kristoph smirks with crossed arms.

"Not directly, but-"

"But nothing." The demented host curtly states, wasting no time in ending his former protégé's argument before it could even begin. "Granted, you may have bested me and acquitted Ms. Misham of murdering her father, but you only did so through the aid of a jury of slack-jawed plebeians- mindless sheep that Wright herded into that courtroom with his sinister siren's song to further his malevolent plan to reclaim his badge at my expense."

"Objection! You and I both know that Mr. Wright didn't forge that diary page! He would never stoop so low to win a case!" Apollo proclaims with a fierce glare, causing his former mentor to burst out into a fit of laughter. "What's so funny?"

"I'm… I'm sorry, Mr. Justice…" Kristoph snickers as he slowly regained his composition. "I just find it so humorous that just moments ago, you were so consumed by fear about the fateful trial that ended our relationship as teacher and student, yet you forgot all about the key piece of evidence that sealed my fate. And judging by that anxious look in your eyes, you know exactly what I'm talking about: the bloody ace." The demented host smirks upon noticing how his former protégé's eyes had widened.

"That was an entirely different situation! Mr. Wright only forged that playing card because it was the only way to reveal the truth behind your crimes, not because he was looking to deceive the court!"

"Regardless of his intentions, that doesn't change the fact that Wright forged evidence to serve his goals and then forced it on a naïve, idealistic attorney- making him no less evil than me."

"But-"

"Tell me, Apollo, what if the prosecutor for that case was actually competent? What do you think would have happened to you if they decided to press charges against you for presenting forged evidence in a court of law? Do you believe that they'd accept your explanation of Wright 'trying to find the truth'?" Kristoph sneers.

"Well, I… I don't think that they would be too harsh on me…" Apollo reluctantly states, a few beads of cold sweat dripping down his brow as his posture became hunched.

"Oh, on the contrary, your fate would have been identical to Wright's- the BAR Association voting to disbar you, stripping you of your livelihood despite my valiant attempts to clear your name. All the while, Wright would use his connections within the Prosecutor's Office to acquit himself and move on with his life, leaving you to deal with the fallout of his devious scheme." Kristoph responds with a look of contempt before reverting back to his normal grin, satisfied in his victory over his former protégé. "But now that we've cleared the air on this matter, let's move onto why you're standing before me off the side of the road in the first place: claiming your prize for winning _Debauched Steel_. So Mr. Justice, what is your wish? Making you taller? Giving you a less embarrassing hairstyle? Getting people other than me to actually like you?"

"None of those things, Mr. Gavin." Apollo says with a shake of his head.

"That's a relief, especially in regards to the lattermost suggestion. Sure, I may possess great powers that allow me to bend reality at will and to see into universes beyond our own, but even that task would be nigh impossible for me." Kristoph sneers, much to Apollo's disdain.

"Ha ha, people don't like me." The horn-headed attorney sighs in exasperation. "Look Mr. Gavin, if you're trying to get me upset, then you're going to have to try something else. Practically everyone that I deal with on a daily basis has used that line of insults so often that I've been desensitized to it."

"Oh, this hatred of you is quite real, Apollo. In fact, in the universe that created the video game series that is our world, fans claim that in regards to you, and I quote, 'The guy is really vain, constantly fretting about his appearance and trying to coin puns and nicknames about himself. He is also really aggressive and unprofessional, lacking the ability to keep a lot of his sarcasm to himself.'; as well as, 'His game ruined the Phoenix Wright character I came to love and replaced him with a dull, stuck-up, annoying bracelet-loving jerk.'; and let's not forget my personal favorite of the bunch, 'Apollo looks like a monkey, has awkward body language, and is already ten times stupider than Phoenix ever was when he was green. His hair is freaking atrocious.'"

"Well, as much as those comments helped to boost my already-low self-esteem, they have nothing to do with my wish. I just want a living salary." Apollo wryly states with crossed arms.

"Wright barely pays you?"

"Oh, I'm lucky _if_ I get paid. You know how much I got for my first case working for Mr. Wright? A bowl of noodles! And not just any noodles, Eldoon's noodles- the ones that the city put out all of those warning for about how two bowls contain enough salt to kill a man!"

"Is that so…?" Kristoph snickers, a hint of glee present in his voice at discovering yet another reason why his despised nemesis is the Devil incarnate.

"Mr. Gavin, if I wanted to lie, do you think I'd be saying stuff that makes me look even more pathetic than I already am?" Apollo dishearteningly states, his 'horns' drooping like wilting leaves on a palm tree.

"Well, in that case, who am I to deny you this wish?" Kristoph replies with a sinister grin.

The demented host raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, the young attorney flashes Kristoph a confused look when he notices that nothing has changed.

"Um, so how is this going to work? Are you going to send me a check every week no matter what, or are you going to pay me some amount that varies based on how much I make during the course of the work week?"

"Look up." Kristoph calmly states, pointing a single finger skyward.

"Ok, but I don't see how… Holy mother of God!" Apollo shrieks as looks up to see a massive mound of pennies, dimes, and quarters plummeting right at him.

Though thankfully, the horn-headed attorney was able to jump out of the way before the sheer quantity of pocket change could crush him.

"What the hell, Mr. Gavin!? Were you trying to crush me?!" Apollo yells, glaring daggers at his former mentor who maintains his calm, collected exterior as he shakes his head.

"Mr. Justice, I may be a murderer, but I am a man of class. I would never reduce myself to something as barbaric as crushing someone under a pile of coins. However, I can't say the same about the money itself…" Kristoph notes with a sinister grin as the mound of coins starts to shake before forming into a colossal bipedal creature that towers above even the mightiest of skyscrapers in Los Angeles.

"Mr. Gavin… What is that?" Apollo asks as he stares up at the coin colossus with saucer-sized eyes filled with terror.

"Why, that's a living wage, Apollo- the thing that you wished for." The twisted host nonchalantly states with crossed arms.

"I wished to receive enough money to live a decent life with, not some hulking metal beast! This isn't fi-"

Apollo is suddenly interrupted by the coin creature slamming its humungous foot on top of him, crushing the horn-headed attorney into a bloody stain.

"You know the old saying, Mr. Justice: More money, more problems." Kristoph sneers before turning to the camera. "I am Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank kittylover05 for submitting the idea for this chapter.


	25. Athena

**Name:** Athena Cykes

 **Vehicle:** Lightning Bug ( _A Dodge Charger named after its bright yellow color scheme that is so vivid that it would put a bumblebee living in a lemon to shame._ )

 **Vehicle Armor:** 2/5 ( _People who put a lot of resources into their vehicle's armor are just pessimists who think they'll lose before the competition starts. And while that may be fine with them, that's not how Athena Cykes rolls. If she can become an attorney at 18 and save her best friend/brother figure from death row, then she can do anything!_ )

 **Vehicle Speed:** 3/5 ( _Athena may want to go as fast as humanly possible, but given her young age and psychological profile, no insurance provider shares her opinions. Therefore, despite her strongly worded protests, Athena had to compromise and settle for a vehicle with moderate speed if she wanted affordable coverage._ )

 **Handling:** Tight ( _It's no secret that Athena loves competition. So when she gets behind the wheel of her vehicle, don't be surprised when she pushes it to its limit._ )

 **Special Attack:** 3/5 ( _Widget of War- After making a few upgrades to Widget, Athena can now use her robotic pal to control the emotions of nearby drivers- causing them to fly from fits of extreme happiness to crippling sadness to blistering fury to spine-tingling fear in a matter of seconds and throwing them off. However, given the… eccentric emotional disposition of a good portion of_ _ **Ace Attorney**_ _characters, this power isn't as effective as you'd think._ )

 **Bio:** Hey guys, I'm Athena Cykes, courtroom revolutionary with a specialty in analytic psychology, and this is my friend, Widget, my trusty computer who can read other people's emotions and my thoughts! Though sometimes, that latter one's a mixed blessing… _How much longer until I can beat everyone to tears?_ Widget, be nice! As you can probably guess, I love competition and am so excited just to get a chance to compete here! Though then again, that would mean going up against Mr. Wright and the others… _Screw them! I want my wish!_ Widget, don't talk like that! They're our friends! _Anyone that gets in my way is getting crushed into dust- especially Apollo! That asshole can take those Chords of Steel of his and scream right up his-_ Ok, I think that's enough from us.

* * *

Athena has done it. She's won _Debauched Steel_ and, with a grin on her face and a skip in her step, approaches Kristoph, who is standing off on the side of the road, to claim her prize: the ability to wish for anything she could possibly desire. However, with the glare that the host of _Debauched Steel_ is flashing her, the yellow-cladded attorney feels a bit reluctant to do so.

"Hi, Mr. Gavin!" Athena cheerfully states with a toothy grin, holding up a peace sign with her right hand. "I'm Athena Cykes and-"

"You make me sick." Kristoph venomously hisses with crossed arms, his voice oozing disdain as his face scrunches into a look of disgust.

"Excuse me?" Athena asks as she cocks her head in confusion.

"You heard me, Ms. Cykes. You make me sick… Almost as much as that irritating, idealistic idiot that you call a boss."

"Yeah, but I don't get why you'd feel that way about me. You haven't even met me until now."

"You're just jealous that I'm prettier than you!" Widget yells, his screen colored red as he glares at the demented ex-attorney.

"Believe me, Ms. Cykes; I am far from jealous of you. On the contrary, I don't hate you because of anything you have, but a quality that you are sorely lacking: character." Kristoph smirked.

"What's that supposed to mean, buster?! I have more character in my pinky than you do in your entire being!" Athena snarls, her fists tightly clenched as she flashes the host of _Debauched Steel_ a fierce scowl with pupiless eyes.

"Don't make me laugh." Kristoph sneers with crossed arms. "You are one of the most clichéd characters to ever come out of this series. You're an upbeat, attractive woman- at least by the standards of the dregs of society- who has a unique ability that is a mixed blessing and, at the age of 18, not only became a defense attorney, but mastered several languages, martial arts, and analytical psychology. You, ma'am, are the very definition of a Mary Sue."

"I am _NOT_ a Mary Sue!" Athena snaps. "Sure, I may have a lot of accomplishments, but I'm just as flawed as any other person."

"Yes, Ms. Cykes, because being a little clumsy and freezing up in court because of a childhood trauma are the most original flaws in the history of character design." Kristoph sarcastically states with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh, like you're one to talk? You're the guy who stalked my boss for seven years because you lost a game of poker."

"Get a life, girly man!" Widget angrily chimes in.

"One, my disdain towards Wright is out of principle, not a single solitary action." Kristoph growls through gritted teeth. "And two, I'm not the only one who despises your character. In fact, my complaints are actually quite common amongst the fan base, who have voiced such riveting opinions like 'The biggest flaw I remember is her trauma, but that asks for sympathy from the player, so that's just even more circlejerking about how lovely Athena is.', 'I felt like everything she did was super overdone and annoying. I didn't like how everyone treated her powers and, as someone who actually studies Psychology I don't like how she talks and talks about analytical psychology.' , and 'The only thing missing from the typical Mary Sue checklist is Athena having a romantic relationship with Phoenix.'" Ugh…" The demented host shudders at the mere thought of Phoenix being in a romantic relationship with anyone. _Why does this feel so familiar…?_

"Why are you telling me this?!" Athena wails with tears streaming down her cheeks. "I can't help it that I'm the way I am!"

"Simple. I am an evil person, and I enjoy seeing anyone so closely associated with my arch nemesis suffer." Kristoph nonchalantly states with a warm grin. "And it's especially satisfying when the person suffering is someone who has no reason to exist. Your character is a poor man's pancake mix of Franziska von Karma and Maya Fey with a watered-down version of Edgeworth's backstory served on the side. Hell, even Juniper Woods, despite her overall dry nature, is leagues better than you are because she is at least _aware_ of her grating flaws and knows her proper place in the background. But you, on the other hand…" The demented host pushes up his glasses. "You parade yourself in amongst the main cast as if you're the next best thing since sliced bread. Sure, I may hate Wright with a burning passion, but he at least _has_ a reason to exist. However, as for you, the only benefit you've yielded as a character is by making _Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney_ , and by extension me, look better when compared to _Dual Destinies_. And for that, I am grateful." Kristoph warmly states with a smile.

"If you look good, then I don't want to know what ugly is." Widget slyly comments, his screen glowing green.

"Ok, I've had just about enough of you." Kristoph growls, causing Widget to vanish without a trace with a snap of his fingers.

"WIDGET!" Athena shrieks before running over to the Host of _Debauched Steel_ and grabbing him by the collar of his jacket, hunching him over so that he is staring right into her rage-filled blue eyes. "What did you do to Widget?!"

"If I were you, Ms. Cykes, I'd be less worried about your chatty little friend and more concerned with gently letting go and backing away from a man capable of killing you five different ways in four seconds."

"*Sigh*… Fine." Athena reluctantly states before releasing Kristoph and taking a step back.

"There's a good girl." Kristoph coolly says with a collected smile. "Now, as much fun as this little chat has been, I feel it's time that we get down to brass tacks. What would you like to wish for and claim as your prize for winning _Debauched Steel_?"

"Easy! I want all the orange juice I can drink!" Athena confidently states with a toothy grin and hands placed firmly on her hips.

"Orange juice?" Kristoph askes, cocking his head in confusion. "Really?"

"What? I can't get enough with the stuff. And with how little Mr. Wright pays me, it's a miracle that I can by any at all."

"Why does that not surprise me…?" The host of _Debauched Steel_ groans, pushing up his glasses as he thinks back on the numerous times he had taken his arch enemy out to restaurants as acts of 'friendship', only to find himself paying the check in its entirety every time. "Nevertheless, I shall grant your wish." The demented ex-attorney states with a sinister grin.

Kristoph raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, Athena finds herself submerged in a large glass box completely filled with orange juice.

Under normal circumstances, such a large quantity of orange juice would be a dream come true for the young attorney; but unfortunately for her, this is far from normal. So instead of savoring the citrusy goodness of her beloved beverage of choice, Athena finds herself frantically swimming around the glass box, desperately searching for a way out. But alas, the box is perfectly sealed with not even the smallest of air pockets to be found- not surprising considering that it was created by a psychopath with the thoroughness to stalk four people for seven years just to cover his tracks.

With each passing second, Athena grows weaker and weaker, her chest feeling tight as the air in her lungs slowly diminishes and her cheeks puffing up like a squirrel with a mouthful of acorns. She knows that she has to get out of this Vitamin C deathtrap, and with what little energy she has left in her body quickly dwindling as her face starts to turn a lovely shade of blue, the young attorney becomes desperate.

That is why Athena immediately stops swimming when she spots Kristoph sitting in his posh purple chair, watching her struggle with a grin on his face as he ironically enjoys a tall glass of orange juice, and starts pounding on the glass with both fists as hard as she can.

"Don't worry, Ms. Cykes. I'll help you out." Kristoph calmly replies, causing a large boombox to appear next to him with a snap of his fingers which proceeds to loudly play the classic downing theme from the _Sonic the Hedgehog_ series.

As the song's tempo speeds up, so too does the rate at which Athena pounds on the side of the box in an attempt to break herself free; but no matter how hard her punches are, they don't even make a dent in the orange juice-filled box of death. And when the song comes to its chilling end after about 20 seconds, Athena's body goes limp as she slowly flips over on her back and floats towards the top of the box like a dead fish in its bowl.

"She was drowning, but I enjoyed watching her struggle." Kristoph sneers before turning to the camera. "I am Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank DJJ680 and AceAttorneyFantic for submitting the idea for this episode. Specifically, the wish and vehicle stats, respectively.


	26. Nahyuta

**Name:** Nahyuta Sahdmadhi

 **Vehicle:** The Most Holy Mercedes-Benz ( _Nahyuta saw a commercial where a Buddhist monk was driving one and enjoying himself, so he decided to see what the hype was about. Sure, this car might be a bit decadent for the tastes of a monk, but someone has to bring some decency to the vehicle if that putrid fox-boy with his baggy pants, loud music, and atrocious grammar is also driving one._ )

 **Vehicle Armor:** 3/5 ( _Despite knowing the risks that this competition entails, Nahyuta refuses to modify his car's armor on the grounds that if the Holy Mother wishes for him to meet his end, he shall not fight his fate._ )

 **Vehicle Speed:** 2/5 ( _Nahyuta is a refined Khura'inese monk, not some putrid speed demon._ )

 **Vehicle Handling:** Moderate ( _Better handling is completely unnecessary when the Holy Mother takes the wheel._ )

 **Special Attack:** 4/5 ( _Constricting Aura- Through years of intense meditation and training, Nahyuta has learned to take his rosary constricting technique to the next level by being able to perform it telepathically on nearby wrongdoers. However, while the attack can completely incapacitate its victim, it can only be used on one person at a time._ )

 **Bio:** O Holy Mother, please forgive your most loyal of followers for participating in this putrid competition. May you subject Mr. Gavin- for creating this putrid show of needless bloodshed and carnage- to 26 millennia of torture in the Hell of Telemarketers and Door-to-door Salesmen. But nevertheless, while I don't condone this putrid brand of senseless violence, if I am being forced to compete, then I might as well make the most of it and change the world for the better if the Holy Mother deems my victory so.

* * *

Sitting on a bench off to the side of the road, Kristoph is reading a book on psychological torture as he waits for the winner of _Debauched Steel_ to arrive and claim their prize: a wish for anything their heart desires. Thankfully, the deranged host doesn't have to wait long as he hears the sound of a car driving towards him. And sure enough, upon looking up, Kristoph sees a Mercedes-Benz approaching.

"Oh, great…" The host of _Debauched Steel_ groans with a look of disdain. "Wocky Kitaki won the contest. Better prepare to spawn some aspirin. I swear, of all the people to win, why did it have to be- wait… on the hood… Is that a Khura'inese symbol?" Kristoph asks as his eyes widen. "NO! I change my mind! Give me Wocky Kitaki, give me anyone! Just don't give me-"

"Hello, Mr. Gavin." Nahyuta calmly states with a cold, stern face as he exits his vehicle and walks up to the demented host.

"Mr. Sahdmadhi, what a pleasure to see you." Kristoph growls through clenched teeth.

"If it's such a pleasure to see me, then you certainly aren't looking it. But then again, I shouldn't be surprised. Most of you putrid western defense attorneys lie so often through your forked tongues that you hardly know the difference between up and down, light and dark, and truth and lie." Nahyuta sneers.

"Well, perhaps I'd be in a better mood if I was being regaled by a grating, pathetic wannabe thug and not some self-righteous 'holy' man who will take every opportunity he can to tell me about how sinful I am and how I'll burn in Hell, or something like that." Kristoph irritably retorts.

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd love it if I pointed out every single one of your putrid little sins, allowing you the very slim chance to save your putrid soul from whatever hell Her Holiness has planned for you. That is why I shall not be telling you the steps to redeem yourself so that you can die with your mind's eye shrouded in the darkness of a lack of spiritual enlightenment, just like how your putrid soul is shrouded in the darkness of your sins and misdeeds. A truly fitting end for a black-hearted defense attorney such as yourself." The smug monk triumphantly smirks as he slowly lifts his hand, allowing for a pink, translucent butterfly to land on his raised fingers.

"What, so you aren't going to give me a tour through the Nine Circles of Hell?" Kristoph wryly asks with a cocky grin of his own and crossed arms.

The Realm of the Damned is nothing like the one from Dante's little fairytale. There are not nine hells- I laugh at your nine putrid circles of generality- but over one million, each flawlessly handling the degree to which a person sins." Nahyuta states with an authoritative tone, pointing out with his fist while clutching his rosary. "First, there's the Hell of Silence, where those who do good only for the sake of receiving praise for it are forced to live in a realm containing nothing but their lonesome thoughts. Then there is the Hell of Deep Breathing, where gossipers are subjected to a person unceasingly exhaling warm, moist air into their ear with no chance for escape. Then we have the Hell of Dirty Hands, where those who love to double dip are allowed to eat only one thing: bread and olive oil. The catch? The bread itself is too dry to consume on its own, but the second the damned soul tries to dip it, a smelly man with greasy, unwashed hands slams his fist in the olive oil, forcing them to choose between the crippling pain of hunger and suffering from food poisoning. And then we come to one of the more interesting hells: The Hell of Endless Lines, where the putrid souls who try to check-out 11 items in a ten-items-or-less line must-"

"I take it you're not going to try your hand at being poetic. Well, that's probably for the best considering that there aren't that many words that rhyme with 'putrid.'"

Nahyuta takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and raises his hand. "If I were to guess, in your previous life, you were an oak tree that meet its end when it was cut down to make toothpicks, if your poking remarks and ridiculous hairstyle are of any indication."

"Oh, like you're one to talk." Kristoph angrily retorts with crossed arms. "This hairstyle may have been thrusted upon me by my mother, but at least it looks refined, unlike yours which resembles that of a girl in middle school trying to look like Rapunzel."

"That may be so, Mr. Gavin, but at least my hairstyle hasn't had toothpicks made in its likeness and sold in Burger Barn by a soulless corporation trying to cash in on the reputation of a putrid rock star who sullies the good name of prosecutors everywhere."

"Please leave Klavier out of this." Kristoph coldly states as he pushes his glasses up. "He may not be the most serious of prosecutors and may be almost as sickeningly idealistic as Wright, but only _I_ can insult him."

"Don't worry. I didn't plan to drag your putrid brother into this in the first place. For even as we speak, the Holy Mother is exacting her punishment on that putrid womanizing rock star by making him suffer in the Hell of Impotence- a realm where women flock to the souls of the damned men, but each time they get aroused, their manhood slowly shrinks smaller and smaller, prompting them to be ridiculed for hours on end. This cycle of arousal and humiliation will continue for your putrid brother until his genitals are no more. But then again, his punishment probably won't last very long since he didn't have that much in that regard to begin with. After all, why would a man be so obsessed with his guitars if he wasn't trying to compensate for something? And based on your appearance, I believe that it runs in your family."

"Judging by that last comment, I'd wager that your wish is to meet your precious Holy Mother is person. Am I right?" Kristoph snarls, glaring daggers at the holier-than-thou monk.

"Such hostility!" Nahyuta sneers. "Though I would expect as much from a putrid defense attorney. You need to learn to let things go and move on. For just as the snake shed its skin, we must shed our past over and over again."

"So are you going to make your wish or are you going to sing a song out of a Disney film?" Kristoph asks in an irritable tone with crossed arms. "Because if it's the latter, then I have a few choice lyrics."

"Satora imaoman domosamashi detashinuke taregasayo sonoka!" Nahyuta chants after performing a series of strange hand gestures. "Very well. If you fail to grasp basic reasoning, then perhaps it would be best for us to move on. My wish is for your show to do some actual good by creating a world in which Ga'ran never executed her plan to usurp the throne, thereby saving my country from her sinful rule."

"Granted." Kristoph replies with a sinister grin.

The host of _Debauched Steel_ raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, Nahyuta finds himself standing behind the defendant's stand in the Khura'inese court room. Though much to the monk's confusion, hanging from the ceiling are many white banners depicting a Venus symbol with a red no sign on top of it and blue block letters below that read 'NO MA'AM'. In addition, the pool of souls is covered up with a white tarp bearing the same symbol as the banners.

Though before Nahyuta can comment on the banners, he is interrupted by a bailiff.

"Everyone, please stand in attention for our wise and noble judge, the man who liberated Khura'in and instilled the holy doctrines of the National Organization of Men Against Amazonian Masterhood into our way of life: His Manliness, King Inga!"

"Inga? King!?" Nahyuta reels back in shock with saucer-sized eyes. "Pohlkunka!"

Though much to the monk's shock, this proclamation is verified as Inga, who is wearing a rainbow sequin robe and has his hair styled like Liberace, struts up to the Judge's bench and takes a seat as the gallery, which is filled with men wearing shirts identical to the banners who start excitedly cheering.

"Order! Order in the court!" Inga bellows as he slams the ornamental gavel typical of Khura'inese trials before taking a gold-plated cigar stamp out of his robe and chomping down on it. "We're gathered here today for the execution of Prosecutor Nahyuta Sahdmadhi for his crimes against NO MA'AM."

"Objection!" Nahyuta shouts, pointing his arm out while gripping his rosary. "The only thing I have ever done is uphold the laws and traditions established by the Holy Mother!"

"Exactly! You've been worshiping the Holy Hag even though we've made it illegal in favor of adopting the Church of NO MA'AM as our nation's religion- founded by the Reverend Al Bundy, who was married for our sins."

"Church of NO MA'AM… Al Bundy… You replaced the founding principles of our kingdom for some sham group of ignorant, lazy drunks created for an American sitcom from the 90's?!" Nahyuta snarls, pulling at his rosary. "Have you no shame?!"

"Shut your trap, ya palooka! That sitcom saved my life, see? There I was, stuck in a forced, loveless marriage with Ga'ran- all my stuff destroyed and family killed so that I'd have no distractions. By day, I'd have her nagging me about never paying enough attention to her when I was busy doing my job as a prosecutor, and by night she'd be complaining about me being a horrible lover as she did things to me that would make men with even the strongest of wills cry. Four years later, after so many months of torture, I prayed vehemently to the Holy Mother each and every day, filled with the hope that maybe the Holy Harlot would have a sliver of mercy and actually put me outta my misery, but she never helped me. But then one fateful evening, I was flipping through the channels on the t.v. when I found it: _Married …With Children_ …"

Inga pauses for a brief second as sobs from the men in the gallery fills the courtroom.

"As I was saying… They were playing an episode where after Al's bowling night and strip club were unjustly ripped away from him- similar to what Ga'ran did to me- only instead of taking it lying down, Al started up NO MA'AM and fought back! So I thought to myself, 'Inga, if some guy who sells women shoes can stand up to this kind of injustice, why can't you?'"

"Yeah, Inga!" Several men in the gallery yell as they proudly pump their fists in the air.

"Thank you, thank you…" The bedazzled king says with a proud grin. "So the next night, Ga'ran, after finishing her work as Minister of Justice, burst into my room and wanted to get kinky with me, getting all heated up 'cause she had just cooked up some scheme to fake an assassination on Amara and claim the throne for herself. But much to the spider-cow-whale's shock, I wasn't taking any of her crap; and when she tried to stick her big purple strap-on up my no-no hole, I fought back! I wrestled the thing outta her hands, beat her down to the ground, and forced that damn scepter of evil down her throat till she stopped breathing!"

The gallery bursts into a thundering roar of applause which is quickly silenced by a slam from Inga's gavel.

"Now Nahyuta, let me ask ya…" The bedazzled king sneers, chomping down on a gold-plated cigar stamp. "How do you think your 'dear' mother reacted to Ga'ran's death?"

"My mother, being the pious, wise woman she is, hopefully tried to do the honorable act of bringing you to justice for your heinous crime. But judging by your current position, and further crimes against fashion, that didn't happen."

"Your damn right it didn't!" Inga smirks. "Oh, Amara tried her darndest to have me executed for killing her 'sweet, innocent sister', but what she didn't count on was the backlash she'd receive for trying to dish out such a hefty punishment for justified self-defense. Though your mother learned that the hard way when her own royal guard executed her and rallied behind my cause, allowing me to claim the throne with ease after my boys sent Dhurke running with his tail between his legs. And now, over 20 years later, I've turned Khura'in from some namby-pamby lady land into a paradise of manliness- outlawing talking about feelings, building a dozen or so strip clubs, and even starting up a state-wide fast food chain that will shorten your lifespan by at least ten years, Jackhammer Richie's! So, still think that NO MA'AM is some sham group?"

"Yes!" Nahyuta yells, casting the king a death glare. "Not only that, but you are even more depraved and power hungry than I originally thought! You've plagued this fine land with nothing but putrid sins of lust, gluttony…! and… and… I don't know exactly what kind of sin that first acts is, but it's a sin nonetheless and you will surely be damned to the Hell of Tickling for sure!"

"Ya know, Nahyuta, ya talk a big game, but so did your dad all those years ago when he tried to fight my glorious regime with his rebel group, and also Abbot Inmee last week when he protested us trying to convert the worship room in this here temple into a Jiggly Room. And what happened to them, you may ask…" A sinister grin spreads across the bedazzled king's face. "We fed 'em to Ga'ran! Bring her in boys!" Inga orders with a slam of his gavel.

"Ga'ran…?" Nahyuta asks with a tone of fear in his voice.

Suddenly, the doors to the courtroom are flung open as two muscular men- also wearing NO MA"AM shirts- drag in a huge meat grinder large enough in size to shred a couch.

"You're going to throw me into a meat grinder!?" Nahyuta reels back in shock.

"Yeah." Inga smirks. "As stated in Rule Three of the Church of NO'MAM, 'It's ok to put all bad people in a giant meat grinder.' As it is written by Reverend Al Bundy, so it shall be decreed!" The king proclaims with a slam of his gavel, prompting the two men who brought Ga'ran the meat grinder in to approach Nahyuta.

Naturally, the devout monk prepares to throw his rosary at the two men in an attempt to incapacitate them and escape this twisted sense of justice, but the men are too fast and grab him by his arms before dragging him up the metal stairs attached to the meat grinder that lead to the top of the device.

"Unhand me, you putrid heathens!" Nahyuta snarls as he wriggles in a vain attempt to free himself. "For the Holy Mother does not take kindly to those who execute Her most faithful monks, especially those who also serve the Kingdom as prosecutors!"

"Rule Four: 'Lawyers, see Rule Three.'" Inga sneers before giving the infamous thumbs-down of ancient times signaling one's execution, prompting for the giant electric meat grinder to be turned on, the blades rapidly spinning and grinding together as the engine lets out a low rumbling sound.

The two men holding Nahyuta's arms proceed to waste no time in throwing the monk into the meat grinder, an eruption of crimson liquid, along with a few lavender-colored hairs, bursts forth from the top of the device as his screams fill the air; followed by pink, blood-soaked ribbons of what's left of him coming out of the side and plopping onto the ground with a moist thud.

As the men in the gallery cheer Nahyuta's death, they are quickly silenced with a slam of their king's gavel.

"Ok, now that Nahyuta's dead, let's celebrate with some sacred wrestling in the Mud Pit of Souls! Oh, girls…!" Inga snickers with a slam of his gavel, prompting two women in tight, revealing emerald and purple bikinis to enter the courtroom and remove the tarp in the center of the area, revealing the Pool of Souls, which is filled with mud, before proceeding to wrestle in the mess, much to the enjoyment of Inga and the gallery.

As the men gaze at the spectacle completely entranced, Kristoph emerges from behind the meat grinder and walks over to Nahyuta's remains and stares down at them.

"Don't feel so bad, Mr. Sahdmadhi. For now you get to _meet_ your maker. Ha ha ha! Oh, how I crack myself up…" Kristoph sneers before turning to the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank JordanPhoenix and MuhammadGamingS for submitting the idea for this chapter.


	27. Luke Atmey

**Name:** Luke Atmey

 **Vehicle:** Sir Quackers ( _We… We thought that we've seen it all, but we were so very wrong. This guy is off his rocker! Seriously, Atmey's driving- and we're not joking when we say this- a giant yellow, cartoony, open-top rubber ducky on eight wheels! When we questioned him on this decision, Atmey told us that, "the vehicle's harmless façade will lure my foes into a false sense of security, allowing me to best them with ease. That, and something about it just feels right." But really, a duck?! Why!?_ )

 **Vehicle Armor:** 4/5 ( _You've got to give Atmey some credit. He may have disturbing tastes in vehicles, but that duck is way stronger than it looks._ )

 **Vehicle Speed:** 3/5 ( _The fact that that duck can actually get up hills and stairs as quickly as it does makes us legitimately terrified._ )

 **Vehicle Handling:** Sluggish ( _The power of physics compels you, o demon duck! Thank goodness that thing's bulky design doesn't allow for quick turning._ )

 **Special Weapon:** 5/5 ( _Atmey Virus- The Atmey Virus is one of the most dangerous diseases to ever exist and for very good reason. Designed to kill anyone without Atmey genetics, this deadly combination of fast-acting variants of the Ebola, CCHF, and rabies viruses will do that within a matter of minutes to anyone unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of the mad detective's disease grenade launcher. Luckily, Kristoph will be safely out of range as he watches the action unfold from the safety of his dirigible._ )

 **Bio:** Salutations, dear viewer! I am Luke Atmey, Ace Detective and strategist supreme. I can't believe that Mr. Gavin can be so sadistic- not because of the very nature of this competition, but because he's actually allowing me to compete; for that is the equivalency of having Einstein and Newton face-off against a group of kindergarteners in a battle of mathematical wit! But who am I to complain? Achieving victory in this clash of cars, this skirmish of skidding, this motorized mayhem, whatever you so wish to call it, shall be easier than taking priceless art from a crying former security guard!

* * *

In the ruins of what used to be L.A., Kristoph Gavin stands face-to-face with Luke Atmey, the winner of _Debauched Steel_ who has come to claim his prize: a wish for anything that he could possibly imagine.

"Congratulations, Mr. Atmey. You're the winner of _Debauched Steel_. Now what-"

"SHHH! SILENCE!" Luke orders, leaning forward with an intense scowl as if he is trying to stare right through the deranged ex-attorney. "… Zvarri! The truth has been once again elegantly revealed to me like dust in the morning sun! You are a former attorney…"

"Yes, that's correct, Mr. Atmey. I-"

"A former attorney who has yet to come out of the closest, like a new sweater- or in your case, a brand-new neon-pink feather boa." Luke smirks, holding up his hand to show off his red diamond ring.

"WHAT!?" Kristoph shouts, nearly stumbling back out of shock. "What on earth would give you such an absurd idea?!"

"Why, it's quite elementary, Sir Host." The Ace Detective states matter-of-factly as he polishes his monocle. "The first clue that caught my ever-vigilant eye was your periwinkle suit, the most flamboyant of blues; followed then by your effeminate, well-kept nails; and then by your distinct hairstyle, which is undeniably modeled after male genitalia- and if the length is of any indication, you feel the need to compensate for yours."

"I do not need to compensate for anything, Atmey!" Kristoph snarls with crossed arms, flashing the Ace Detective a death glare. "And while I may be more fashionable than most other men, I am completely heterosexual."

"And so I come to the crux of my argument…" Luke states, his tilted up in distinction. "Your burning, unfettered attraction to one Mr. Phoenix Wright."

"No…" Kristoph seethes as he pushes up his glasses with a shaky hand. "Just… no. Such a ludicrous idea isn't worth getting worked up over."

"Zvarri! You may say one thing, Sir Host, but Luke Atmey, Ace Detective, is not so easily fooled. Based on the evidence I have previously presented regarding your sexual preferences, coupled with rumors I've heard from women regarding Mr. Wright's looks- stating that he is a 'D.I.L.F. with a six-pack that can grate cheese'- you were drawn to him like a moth to the flame. However, afraid of the ramifications regarding your coming out of the closet, you chose to suppress your feelings. This sexual frustration then proceeded to manifest itself in the form of you destroying Mr. Wright's career, followed by stalking him for seven long years- pretending to be his friend and lavishing him with dinners and grape juice in the hopes that one day he would return your feelings of love; so that you could finally caress your beautiful blazing bird."

As the egotistical detective continues on with his disturbing train of thought, Kristoph growls through clenched teeth, his arms crossed as his left eye begins to twitch as his anger grows with each passing word.

"So tell me, Sir Host, is my brilliant conclusion so ludicrous now?" Luke asks, his right eye staring through his monocle/magnifying glass as he moves it back and forth. "Is- Gwagwagwagwawaaaah!" The Ace Detective yells as he is sent tumbling to the ground by a swift punch to the jaw from the host of _Debauched Steel_.

"Utter one more word regarding me having such sick, twisted fantasies about my arch enemy, and the next case you'll be working on will be _The Mysterious Incident of the Missing Bothersome Detective_." Kristoph hisses.

"Zvarri! The truth has once again been revealed to me, Sir Host…" Luke groans as he picks himself up off the ground. "When you were in grade school, you received the same report card every year. 'A perfectionist in all subjects, but prone to losing his head when people disagree with his views'… Correct?"

"H-How did you…!?" Kristoph reels back out of shock. "Never mind. Just make your wish already so I don't have to deal with you any longer."

"With pleasure!" Luke smirks as he raises his right hand. "I seek the one thing that has eluded mankind since the dawn of time; a concept many an alchemist has spent a lifetime searching for. My desire? Immortality, Sir Host. I wish that my zavarkling visage and brilliant mind can stand the test of time and be gazed upon in splendor for many generations to come."

"Granted." Kristoph replies with a sinister grin.

The host of _Debauched Steel_ raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. But when the light diminishes, Luke is nowhere to be found, and in his place is a stone statue in his smug likeness on a pedestal with a plaque on it reading, 'Luke Atmey- Ace Detective'.

Kristoph chuckles to himself as he gazes upon his handiwork. "Quite the legacy you've left behind, Mr. Atmey. But alas…" The former defense attorney shakes his head. "For every person who leaves a legacy upon this earth, there is always another who seeks to destroy it. Like this!"

The host of _Debauched Steel_ snaps his fingers, causing a sledgehammer to appear in his hands before slamming the blunt, heavy head into the statue's right arm, snapping it off the body.

"And this!"

With a second swing of the hammer, the stone Atmey's left knee is shattered, causing the statue to fall off of the pedestal and land face up on the ground with a loud thud.

"And most certainly this!"

The demented host winds his hammer back with a wicked, toothy grin on his face and a crazed look in his eyes before delivering the coup de grace to the statue's head, reducing it to a cloud of dust which is quickly swept away by a sudden breeze.

"People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, Mr. Atmey. Or in your case, don't go accusing people of losing their heads unless you want to lose yours." Kristoph sneers before turning to the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank AlyCat20 for submitting the idea for this chapter.


	28. Manfred

**Name:** Manfred von Karma

 **Vehicle:** _The_ Mercedes ( _Not_ _ **a**_ _Mercedes,_ _ **the**_ _Mercedes. Any car purchased and driven by a von Karma is superior to all other makes and models- even those that are identical to it in every way, shape, and form and found at the exact same dealership._ )

 **Vehicle Armor:** 5/5 ( _The Mercedes is like von Karma logic- unbreakable and capable of making those of lesser fortitude cry._ )

 **Vehicle Speed:** 5/5 ( _von Karmas are never inferior in any aspect of life, and vehicle speed is no exception._ )

 **Vehicle Handling:** Perfect ( _Do you expect anything less from Manfred von Karma's vehicle?_ )

 **Special Weapon:** N/A ( _"Special weapons are merely crutches for imperfect guttersnipes who lack the perfect genes of the von Karma." That's what Manfred told us when he chose to not give his vehicle any special attacks._ )

 **Bio:** Greetings, I am Manfred von Karma, the perfect prosecutor. Remember it! *Snap!* For countless generations, the von Karma family has struck fear into the hearts of criminals and defense attorneys alike by achieving guilty verdict after guilty verdicts with nary a defeat. But alas, my perfect record, the only thing that I ever truly loved, was stripped away from me on two occasions- once when Greggory Edgeworth stuck his nose where it didn't belong and struck me down with a penalty; and then 15 years later when Phoenix Wright, some sniveling, conniving greenhorn, used his seedy defense attorney tricks to make me lose not one trial, but two, with the second leading to my arrest. But thanks to this little show, I'll be able to restore the balance of the universe with my inevitable victory.

* * *

Kristoph may be a meglomanic psychopath with an ego that could rival the sun in terms of size, but even he couldn't help but feel intimidated at the sight of Manfred von Karma standing before him, glowering at him with crossed arms, as if the host of _Debauched Steel_ is wasting _his_ time. But then again, the veteran prosecutor does have the right to be arrogant. After all, he did win _Debauched Steel_ and the ability to wish for anything he could possibly want.

"Congratulations on your victory, Mr. von Karma. What would-"

Manfred cuts off Kristoph with a loud snap of his fingers.

"That's _Prosecutor_ von Karma to you, boy. I didn't maintain a perfect courtroom record for 40 years so that a mere defense attorney such as yourself could address me as 'mister'." Manfred venomously growls.

"Emphasis on 'did'." Kristoph sneers with crossed arms. "And by a 'mere' defense attorney, no less."

"You and I both know that Phoenix Wright is like an electric eel out of water- spineless and flails about haphazardly, but once you have him in your grasp, he just slips out of your hands and shocks you."

"Yes, I'm quite aware of how Wright is…" Kristoph growls as he pushes his glasses up. "But unlike you, _Mr_. von Karma, I actually managed to get him disbarred and crushed his spirit. And unlike your sloppily executed crimes which could have been figured out by a toddler, Wright only managed to best me through the use of forged evidence and a massive overhaul of the state's legal system."

"Defense attorneys…" Manfred jeers with a shake of his head. "Always celebrating the smallest of victories."

"Prosecutors…" Kristoph retorts, mirroring the former prosecutor's head shake. "Always overreacting when faced with the smallest of defeats."

"Well, _boy_ , I won your competition, so you're going to grant my wish. And to make sure that I don't overwhelm your simple, miniscule defense attorney brain, I'm going to tell you what I desire slowly and with little words. Make… it… where… I… never… got… a… single… penalty. Do you understand?"

"Defense Attorney understand." Kristoph replies in an over-the-top tone with crossed arms. "Defense Attorney grant wish."

The host of _Debauched Steel_ raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, Manfred finds himself in the courtroom behind the prosecutor's bench, standing opposite to Gregory Edgeworth, who is wearing his usual grey suit, as Jeff Master sits in the defendant's chair.

Upon realizing who the defense attorney is, a sinister grin spreads across the veteran prosecutor's face as he connects the dots.

 _This is perfect!_ Manfred's inner voice rejoices. _I'm prosecuting the IS-7 trial. Hopefully, that wretched defense attorney sent me back to before I was given that penalty. All I have to do now is-_

The 'perfect' prosecutor's thoughts are suddenly interrupt by a bang from the Judge's gavel.

"Mr. Edgeworth, you had an objection?" The bearded man asks.

"Yes, Your Honor…" Gregory replies with a nod.

 _Here it comes…!_ Manfred internally squeals with diabolical glee.

"I like cats. They're cute, fluffy, playful creatures that always bring a smile to my face." Greggory states with a bow.

"I agree, Mr. Edgeworth! Not to mention, cats hate Mondays- something I believe we can all agree with. What do you think, Prosecutor von Karma?" The Judge asks, gazing at the veteran prosecutor with his typical blissful look.

"What do I think…?" Manfred angrily parrots with crossed arms. "I think that this trial has gone off the rails. Cats have absolutely nothing to do with the current case!"

"GWWWWAAAAHHHH!" The Judge screams, an icy glare forming on his face. "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!? THAT'S A PENALTY!" The angry bearded man roars with a slam of his gavel.

"What!?" Manfred reels back, a few drops of sweat dripping down his brow. "You can't give me a penalty over such a trivial matter like I'm some kind of defense attorney!"

"WHAT'S THAT!? YOU WANT A DOUBLE!? WELL, HERE YA GO!" The Judge yells, slamming his gavel once again.

"Dou- Raaaaaaaargh!"

"Now hurry up and fix things!" The Judge angrily demands.

"Fine…!" Manfred hisses as he pulls out a photo of Delicia's room, in which a stepladder is clearly visible. "As you can see by this photo, this ladder could have been used-"

"That's a stepladder, Mr. von Karma." The Judge interjects."

"Are you daft? They're the exact same thing." The veteran prosecutor curtly responds, prompting the Judge to slam his gavel.

"That's enough! This court sees no reason to further prolong this trial. The prosecution is clearly not mentally sound if they cannot appreciate the cuteness of cats, as well as know the obvious difference between a ladder and stepladder. Therefore, all of the prosecution's previous arguments have been stricken from the record. I see no room for misinterpretation of the facts. This court finds the defendant, Mr. Jeffery Master… Not guilty!" The bearded man proclaims with another slam of his gavel. "And with that… The court is adjourned."

"NOOOO!" Manfred screams, the color draining from his face as he stumbles back. "This wasn't supposed to happen! I was supposed to get my guilty verdict with no penalties!"

"So sorry about that, Mr. von Karma…" Kristoph calmly states from behind the 'perfect' prosecutor, prompting the vampire-esque man to turn around and see the host of _Debauched Steel_ sitting front and center in that section of the gallery. "My 'miniscule' defense attorney brain was under the assumption that you desired two penalties and an acquittal verdict. My mistake. After all, not everyone can be as perfect as you."

"Why you little…!" Manfred snarls, wasting no time in climbing into the gallery to bludgeon Kristoph with his cane, prompting the other spectators to flee the area while screaming in terror.

"Bailiffs, remove Mr. von Karma from this court of law and have the police put him into custody for assault!" The Judge orders, prompting two muscular bailiffs to enter the gallery and grab the veteran prosecutor by the arms.

"No! Unhand me, you lowly bailiffs! You can't do this to me! Do you know who I am!? I am the perfect prosecutor! I am Manfred von Karmaaaaa!" Manfred screams, fervently writhing and flailing about in a vain attempt to free himself and resume pummeling the host of _Debauched Steel_ as he is dragged out of the courtroom.

As this is happening, Kristoph snickers to himself as he heals his injuries, which consists of just a few lumps and bruises, with a snap of his fingers.

"Perfection isn't attainable, but if you chase perfection you can catch a prison sentence." Kristoph sneers before turning to the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank MuhammadGamingS for submitting the idea for this chapter.


	29. Aristotle Means

**Name:** Aristotle Means

 **Vehicle:** Zephyr ( _This 1976 Monte Carlo that Aristotle inherited from an uncle has been terrorizing other drivers, pedestrians, and young children playing in their front yards for decades._ )

 **Vehicle Armor:** 5/5 ( _Aristotle has owned this car for over 20 years, yet it's barely been damaged after countless fender-benders. When we questioned him about his role in said fender-benders, Aristotle responded with, "Those assholes had it coming! If those idiots think it's alright to merge in front of me when there's no one behind me, then they have it coming!"_ )

 **Vehicle Speed:** 3/5 ( _After years of nagging and guilt from his mother, Aristotle can't bring himself to drive too fast or too slow._ )

 **Vehicle Handling:** Sluggish ( _Aristotle hasn't taken his car in for maintenance in over a decade after his mechanic, Costa Loteisis, moved away; because Aristotle will be damned if he trusts his car to some price gouging xeno garage that will sabotage his trusty vehicle instead of actually fixing it._ )

 **Special Weapon:** 4/5 ( _Spear of Themis- The spear of a great legal warrior in service to the Goddess of Law. With its immense power at his disposal, Aristotle is able to strike down all who dare to oppose him in his quest for justice. However, while its power is quite imposing, the Spear of Themis cannot hurt what it can't reach with its moderate range._ )

 **Bio:** I am Aristotle Means- defense attorney, professor, and servant to Themis. Many years ago, in my hour of need, I pledged my loyalty to the Goddess of Law in exchange for her assistance; and ever since that fateful day, that is what I have done in the form of performing various tasks for Themis. However, because of an idealistic rookie attorney, my reputation was shattered and I was arrested. But there's still hope. If I can restore law and order to this world, Themis will grant me my retribution; and this competition will be the means to that end.

* * *

Kristoph is standing off to the side of the road, awaiting the victor of _Debauched Steel_ to come and claim their prize. Though luckily for the deranged host, he's not kept waiting long as he notices Aristotle, with his hair styled like the top portion of a Spartan helmet, approaching from the horizon with a scowl on his face.

"Congratulations on winning _Debauched Steel_ , Mr. Means. What wish would you like me to grant?" Kristoph asks with a warm grin.

"It won't be my wish you'll be granting, Gavin, but rather that of Themis, Goddess of Law- your death!" Aristotle snarls.

"You must be mistaken, Mr. Means. For over the course of my career, I've always defended the law and the sanctity of the courtroom."

"Yes, but these powers of yours, and your flagrant use of them, is an affront to Themis and she will not stand for it!" Aristotle yells, pointing his spear at the demented host.

"Do you think I fear your little Goddess of Law?" Kristoph smirks with crossed arms. "Because in case you've forgotten, I can bend the universe to my will with but a snap of my-" The host of _Debauched Steel_ raises his left hand so that he can remove Aristotle from existence, but is stopped when the former professor rams his spear into his hand with lightning-fast reflexes, causing Kristoph to scream out in immense pain.

"Not for long." Aristotle coldly growls before flinging Kristoph off of his spear like a baseball player trying to hit a homerun, the power of the motion being so great that it tears off the ex-defense attorney's arm, leaving it dangling on the end of the weapon like a sad flag, and launching him into the wall of a nearby skyscraper, which he leaves an indent in before plopping face-first onto the ground.

Dazed and in great pain, Kristoph slowly gets back on his feet and tries to limp away from his assailant. But unfortunately for Kristoph, Aristotle foils that plan by delivering a powerful backhand slap to the demented host's cheek with his own severed arm, knocking the periwinkle-cladded man to the ground before the former professor proceeds to repeatedly flail him with said arm, leaving several nasty scratches thanks to its perfectly manicured nails.

After his desire to flail his foe has been sated, Aristotle places the severed arm in his robe before picking Kristoph up by the neck and proceeding to repeatedly slam his head against the building's wall numerous times, blood spouting out of the ex-defense attorney's skull with each blow.

"W-Wait…" Kristoph weakly pleads, prompting his assailant to pause his onslaught. "Do… Do you have any idea what you're doing? With my powers, I… I can grant any wish you desire. Riches, fame, your job as a professor… All of these can be yours… if… if you spare my life."

"Don't worry, Mr. Gavin, I'll be getting all that and more once I'm finished killing you. For your death is a means to an end; and I always mean what I say, and say what I mean." Aristotle sneers before throwing his foe to the ground with a loud thud and proceeding to stab the host of _Debauched Steel_ with his spear a multitude of times in the chest and stomach, ending the onslaught with one final stab to the forehead.

Aristotle has done what many would deem to be impossible- a forgettable one-off character killing a major villain with nigh omnipotent powers. Kristoph is no more, his mangled and battered corpse limply lying on the ground.

Though Aristotle is unable to celebrate his victory, for no sooner after killing the host of _Debauched Steel_ , the translucent figure of a woman resembling Lady Justice, holding a scale in one hand and a sword in the other, appears before him.

"Lady Themis…" The former professor states, getting down on one knee and lowering his head out of respect.

"Rise, Aristotle." The figure commands, to which Aristotle complies. "You have done well in bringing about the death of Kristoph Gavin. For while he helped to bring balance to the world of law after Miles Edgeworth brought Blaise Debeste to justice, as well as provided me much amusement with his paranoia and the lengths to which he would go out of vengeance, the hubris for which he displayed by creating this show could not be forgiven."

"So does this mean that you'll fulfill your end of the deal?"

"Indeed. Your actions today have redeemed you of your unjust murder of Constance Courte and the measures that you took to cover it up. Therefore, I shall allow you to travel back in time to the moment before your conviction." Themis states, and with a wave of her hand, creates a glowing white portal out of thin air. "Now go, Aristotle. Go into the portal before you and take full advantage of this opportunity that I have so graciously bestowed upon you."

"Yes, Lady Themis." Aristotle says with a nod, stepping into the portal as it disappears behind him.


	30. Trucy

**Name:** Trucy Wright

 **Vehicle:** Magic Mobile ( _Trucy is driving a snowplow. You heard that right- little Trucy Wright is driving some massive snowplow made to handle heavy-duty snowstorms. When questioned on this unusual choice in vehicle, Trucy responded with, "What's so strange about it? Snowplows have been tools of magic for years. No matter how much snow is covering a road, after a snowplow passes through, it's like nothing was ever there. If that's not magic, then I don't know what is! Plus, if a snowplow was good enough for David Blane to get to the hospital with when his fiancé was going into labor and he couldn't get a cab, then it's good enough for me!"_ )

 **Vehicle Armor:** 4/5 ( _Even though you can't see it, a magician always has measures in place to maximize safety, and this competition is no different._ )

 **Vehicle Speed:** 2/5 ( _Trucy tried to increase the speed rating for the Magic Mobile, but no matter what she tried, the engine kept bursting into flames._ )

 **Vehicle Handling:** Moderate ( _What's that, you ask? How can a large, bulky snowplow have moderate handling? Well, we were just as surprised as you were when we asked Trucy about this, to which she responded with, "Anything is possible with magic!"_ )

 **Special Weapon:** 3/5 ( _Magic Panties- Any projectiles that come Trucy's way enter her signature panties that defy the laws of nature, never to be seen again… unless, of course, she decides to fire them out at some other unsuspecting driver. However, the magic panties are useless against direct attacks._ )

 **Bio:** Hi everyone, Trucy Wright, Ace Magician, here! But as much as I'd love to show you some magic tricks, I've got bigger fish to fry. Mr. Gavin has ruined Daddy's life and I'm going to make things right!

* * *

Kristoph is standing off on the side of the road as Trucy Wright, the young magician who won _Debauched Steel_ , approaches him with her arms covered by her cape and a serious look on her face.

"Congratulations, Trucy, on winning Deb-ow!" Kristoph yells when the young magician, with lightning-fast reflexes, pulls a large can out of her magic panties and throws it at the host of _Debauched Steel_ , hitting him square in the jaw. "That was completely uncalled for!"

"That's for everything you did to Daddy, you big jerk!" Trucy snarls as she glares daggers at the demented former attorney.

"Still, that's no reason to go around throwing cans of…" Kristoph pauses as he picks up the can that hit him, only for his eyes to widen upon learning what its contents are. "Spotted Dick? Of all the things you could have thrown at me- knives, dynamite, one of those heavy legal books that your father keeps that he has never even so much as glanced at- why in Shirley Temple's good name would you choose a can of British pudding with an unfortunate name?"

"Because that's what you are- a huge can full of dick!" Trucy yells before pulling out another can and throwing it right at Kristoph, hitting him right in the shoulder.

"I admit, I've done many awful things to Wright, but he started it all! He stole my client from me and acted like it was no big thing!" The crazed host angrily retorts. "So then why aren't you throwing those cans at _him_? Or how about your biological father after he suddenly fired me without even giving me a reason why?" Kristoph hisses, only to get hit in the gut with another can of spotted dick. "Will you stop that!?"

"Only when you stop blaming Daddy for doing something that was done with no malicious intent!"

"Ok." Kristoph calmly states, the glare on his face morphing into his usual grin. "In that case, I'll be angry at Wright for deeds that he _did_ do with malice in his heart- like forging evidence in order to get me arrested, or overhauling the entire legal system so that he could clear his name and get his badge back."

"Daddy. Did. That. To. Help. People!" Trucy roars, pelting the host of _Debauched Steel_ with a can of spotted dick after each word.

"Where are you getting all of these cans?!" Kristoph screeches, squeezing the life out of two of them, one in each hand, before throwing them down to the ground as hard as he can, causing them to burst open upon impact and their contents to spill out onto the pavement.

"Magic, you big meanie!" Trucy angrily responds with her hands on her hips before throwing yet another can at the crazed former attorney's face, hitting him right in the nose, which causes two streams of blood to start flowing from his nostrils as he puts a hand to his face to stop it.

"That's it!" Kristoph roars, healing himself with a snap of his fingers and then proceeding to cause Trucy's magic panties to burst into flames.

"My panties!" The young magician screams, dropping the bloomers to the ground and stomping on them in an attempt to extinguish the fire. But alas, despite Trucy's best efforts, her beloved magic panties are reduced to mere ashes.

"Not so magical now, are they?" Kristoph sneers with crossed arms. "Now, unless you want me to do the same to you, I suggest that you make your wish."

"Fine!" Trucy huffs. "For once, I want you to make Daddy happy by giving him a woman that'll love him and be my new mommy!"

"Granted." Kristoph replies with a sinister grin before picking up a can of spotted dick off of the ground and throwing it at the young magician, hitting her hard enough in the head to render her unconscious.

* * *

When Trucy regains consciousness, she finds herself lying on the floor of the Anything Agency in front of the couch while Phoenix- who's wearing a black suit with matching pants, shoes, and bowtie that compliment his white shirt, and whose hair is slicked back and shows no sign of its trademark spikes- stands over her with a look of concern, gently shaking her shoulder.

"Trucy, are you alright?" Phoenix asks as he helps his daughter to her feet.

"Other than my head really hurting, I'm fine." Trucy responds, rubbing the welt that formed after being hit by Kristoph's projectile.

"I'm not surprised." Phoenix calmly responds, gently patting his daughter on the back. "When I heard the thud that just happened, I thought that you were crushed by the bookshelf. But you must have simply had a bad dream and rolled off the couch, which would explain all the screaming I heard."

"Daddy, it wasn't a dream! Mr. Gavin has these strange powers that let him control reality, and he's using them to host this t.v. show that…" Trucy pauses and flashes her father a look of utter shock when she notices his attire. "Daddy, why are you wearing that weird outfit? And what happened to your hair?!"

"I know it looks a bit dorky, Trucy, but your new mommy couldn't stand my hoodie and spikes and insisted that I wear something more becoming."

"I have a new mommy!?" The young magician squeals, prompting her father to start chuckling.

"Glad to know that you're as excited now as you were at the wedding last week. Though speaking of your new mommy, I also came here to make sure-"

"Phoenix von Karma!" Franziska roars as she bursts into the office. "Why isn't that foolish daughter of yours in her school uniform yet? Her first day at the Themis Legal Academy begins in only two hours and I will not allow the von Karma name to be sullied any further by her being foolishly late!"

"I'm so sorry, Franziska! I'm so sorry!" Phoenix whimpers with fear in his eyes, folding his hands together and pressing his arms against his body in an attempt to make himself look smaller. "Trucy was asleep on the couch and she-"

"This is unacceptable, Phoenix von Karma!" Franziska yells, lashing her new husband with her trusty whip. "How do you expect your foolish daughter to become a perfect prosecutor when she's too much of a delinquent to even get dressed?!"

"Don't you yell at my daddy like that!" Trucy shouts, glowering at her new mother and clenching her fists. "And what do you mean about me becoming a prosecutor? I'm gonna be a magician!"

"You'll be whatever I want you to be, foolish girl!" Franziska retorts, cracking the air with her whip as a show of dominance. "And as for your father…" The silver-haired prosecutor smirks and snaps her fingers, prompting Phoenix to step behind her and start rubbing her shoulders with a big, goofy grin on his face. "He loves it when I talk down to him. Isn't that right, foolish darling?"

"Yes, My Queen. You are the air that I breathe and the sun that lights up my life; and I am but your lowly fool, who you've showered with love ever since I lost my useless job as a defense attorney." The ex-attorney sighs with joy before grabbing his wife's gloved hand and giving it a gentle kiss.

"But, Daddy…" Trucy whimpers, lowering her head out of sadness. "You're always telling me about how much you loved being a defense attorney."

"If my beautiful Queen of Perfection says that defense attorneys are useless, then that's what they are." Phoenix sternly states, his posture as perfectly stiff as a board.

"Good boy, Phoenix." Franziska coos, patting the top of the ex-attorney's head like one would a dog.

"T-Though if I may object…" Phoenix nervously mutters, meekly raising a finger as his posture begins to hunch over. "While I may have brought shame to all lawyers, there are many defense attorneys who are far from useless- take my good friend Kristoph Gavin, for example. While I may have been a bumbling fool who won cases only by pure luck and bluffs, Kristoph effectively utilizes evidence and logic to win case after case."

"You're perfectly correct, Phoenix von Karma." Franziska smirks with a waggle of her finger. "That's why Kristoph Gavin has the honor of driving Trucy to her first day at Themis. Now make yourself a little less foolish than you normally are and hold down your daughter while I change her into her uniform."

"Yes, My Queen!" Phoenix bellows at the top of his lungs before holding his daughter in place by grabbing her arms as tightly as he can.

"Daddy, let go of me! You're hurting me!" Trucy pleads, tears forming in her eyes as she squirms in a vain attempt to free herself from her father's ironclad grip.

"Your foolish father's grip will be the least of your worries if you don't put on your uniform." Franziska growls as she grabs a white short-sleeve shirt with a gold Themis Academy logo stitched on it, as well as a red skirt and matching scarf, lying on top of the office's smaller bookshelf and approaches the young magician, whose saucer-sized eyes are filled with terror.

* * *

After several long minutes in which Trucy used every ounce of strength she had to rebel against her new mommy, the adolescent magic enthusiast finds herself wearing her new school uniform- no cape, no hat, and no indication that she was ever a magician to begin with.

"Perfect! Now don't you feel like a winner?" Franziska sneers with a waggle of her finger.

"No!" Trucy sobs as tears stream down her cheeks. "I want to be a magician, and I want my daddy to be the way he used to be!"

"But, Trucy…" Phoenix says with a forlorn expression. "Franziska makes me happy. If she wasn't a part of my life, I don't know what I'd do."

For a brief moment, an awkward silence fills the room as Trucy tries to process how her father could be so happy being married to such a bossy woman and why he's so willing to cast aside his own daughter's dreams. But before the young magician can think about the matter any further, the sound of a car horn can be heard from outside the building.

"How could I have been so foolish as to keep Kristoph Gavin waiting!?" Franziska snaps, pulling at her whip in frustration. "And after we just had the most engaging of conversations…! Phoenix von Karma, take your daughter down to your perfect friend so that she can begin her perfect new life. And while you do that…" The silver-haired prosecutor takes Trucy's cape and hat and forcefully slams them into the nearby trashcan, causing Mr. Hat to spring up, his hand stretched out towards the young magician as if begging her to rescue him. "I'll rid this office of all of that foolish magician nonsense."

Though unfortunately for Mr. Hat, Trucy is unable to do anything to help him as her father forcefully drags her out of the office by the arm while Franziska begins to repeatedly stomp on him as hard as she can, causing the puppet to break into pieces with each impact from her foot.

* * *

"Daddy, please have mercy! We have to save Mr. Hat!" Trucy sobs as Phoenix drags her outside the building, where Kristoph is awaiting her in his periwinkle Prius, his window down as he gives her a warm grin.

"Trucy, you won't be needing that foolish little toy where you're going." Phoenix jovially states, getting down on one knee so he can look his daughter in the eye. "Now, be a good girl and get perfect grades in all of your classes, or I'll have to disown you to please your new mommy."

"Don't worry, Wright. I'll teach her everything she needs to know in order to succeed." Kristoph chimes in with a sinister smirk as the ex-defense attorney forces Trucy into the back seat of the Prius.

"Thanks for everything you've done for me, Kristoph. I wouldn't be living such a happy life if it weren't for you." Phoenix says with a look of sheer gratitude.

"I know." Kristoph calmly states before driving away from the Anything Agency.

"Daddyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Trucy wails at the top of her lungs, her face pressed against the back window as she pounds her fists on the glass while her father just simply waves at her with a smile on his face, becoming smaller and smaller with each passing second. "Noooooooooo! Don't let Mr. Gavin take me away!"

"Don't feel bad, Trucy. No one can hate you with more intensity than someone who used to love you… except me, that is." Kristoph sneers before turning to the camera, which is being held by a man sitting in the passenger's seat. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."


	31. Zak

**Name:** Zak Gramarye

 **Vehicle:** Clubber ( _Zak has loved this black BMW like the child he never had ever since he first struck it big as a magician._ )

 **Vehicle Armor:** 2/5 ( _Poker is a game of risks- you either go all the way or go home. That's why it's Zak's sacred duty as a poker player to live life with as much reckless abandonment as humanly possible, which includes never checking to see if the gun that he used for 'Zak and Valant's Quick-Draw Shoot'em' was properly prepared, pulling a stunt that put the futures of his daughter and defense attorney at risk, and driving a car that was built for its looks._ )

 **Vehicle Speed:** 4/5 ( _You can't abandon your eight-year-old daughter and leave the reputation of your longtime partner in shambles for seven years if you don't have a vehicle that fast._ )

 **Vehicle Handling:** Very Tight ( _As you can probably guess, Zak has made many enemies over the years. But luckily for our 'favorite' magician, he's been able to give them the slip countless times thanks to how Clubber drives like a dream._ )

 **Special Weapon:** 4/5 ( _Trick Cards- Playing cards have always been a vital part of Zak's life in both work and pleasure, and this competition is no different. That's why with his special projectile playing cards that explode on impact, Zak is sure to wow the audience as he makes his competition disappear._ )

 **Bio:** Hello, boys and girls! Are you ready for thrills, excitement, and magic? Well, in that case, pay close attention, for I shall rectify all of my past mistakes within the blink of an eye! That is, if Gavin's willing to bury the hatchet.

* * *

Zak Gramarye loves competition, he thrives on it. There's just something about the charged atmosphere and the thrill of two competitors giving it everything that they've got. In a sense, that's what drove the red-cladded magician to show business. Sure, Zak was never directly competing with Valant or Thalassa, but in the back of his mind he knew that the audience had their favorite, and he would be damn if it wasn't him.

So when Zak emerges as the victor of _Debauched Steel_ , he's wearing a big, toothy grin of satisfaction as he stands face-to-face with Kristoph, who looks absolutely livid.

"Of all the people who could have won this competition…" The psychotic host snarls, his posture hunched over with crossed arms as his left eye starts to twitch. "Of all the psychopaths, criminals, and Wright, _you_ were the one to survive."

"Ha! It's good to see you too, old boy!" Zak jokes with a hearty chuckle and his fists placed firmly on his hips. "You can't get rid of me _that_ easily!"

"Unfortunately…" Kristoph groans as he pushes up his glasses. "Now, please make your wish."

"What, no small talk? Considering our history together, I would have thought that you'd like to catch up and tell me everything that's been going on with you since last we met. I mean, look at you, old boy! You've got your own t.v. show and become a star! Granted, you're not a Gramarye-level star, but you're a star nonetheless." Zak smirks as he pats the host of _Debauched Steel_ on the shoulder.

"I am nothing like you or your fellow miscreant magicians…" Kristoph hisses as he swats the boisterous showman's hand away.

"You're right! Unlike me and the other members of Troupe Gramarye, you suck at poker! And when I say 'suck', I mean you _really_ suck!" Zak proclaims with a hearty chuckle. "Even if you weren't some dishonest sleazebag, I still would have fired you on that day. Sure, I was being accused of murder, but I still had standards, old boy, and being represented by a man whose tells were so obvious that Trucy could have defeated him in a match of poker despite only being eight went against them."

"I refuse to dignify that with a response." Kristoph curtly states as he glowers at his longtime enemy. "Now, once again, please make your wish before I do the Zak and disappear for seven years without a trace and ruin the lives of everyone around me."

"If you're going to act that way…" The red-cladded magician sullenly responds with crossed arms. "I know that I've been a bit of a jerk for so many years…"

"And the award for 'understatement of the century' goes to…" Kristoph wryly retorts.

"Yes, yes… As I was saying, old boy, my wish is to right my wrongs by being reunited with my family and so that I can be the husband that Thalassa deserves and the father to Trucy that I never was."

"That can be arranged." The host of _Debauched Steel_ responds as a sinister grin spreads across his face. "But before I can do that, I'm going to need you to turn around."

Zak cocks his head in confusion. "And why's that? When Blaise Debeste was running things, everything happened instantaneously with a mere snap of his fingers. What do you have to hide?"

"I operate things much differently than Debeste did, and like you magicians, I prefer to keep my methods a secret." Kristoph states as he pushes his glasses up. "So unless you _don't_ want me to grant your wish, please turn around."

"Fine." Zak sighs before turning his back to the ex-defense attorney. "Is this good enough?"

"Perfect." Kristoph snickers as he snaps his fingers, causing a bottle of grape juice to appear in his hand which he proceeds to hide behind his back. "Alright, you can turn to face me now."

When Zak turns to face the host of Debauched Steel, he scans the area with a bewildered look on his face.

"I'm confused, old boy. Where's my family?" The red-cladded magician asks with crossed arms.

"Don't worry, Mr. Enigmar, you'll be with them riiight… NOW!" Kristoph shouts, hitting Zak square in the forehead with the bottle of grape juice as hard as he can, just as he did the last time they met.

And just like the previous encounter, the red-cladded magician instantly dies from the blow, falling face down on the ground at his murderer's feet as a stream of blood trickles from his wound, prompting the host of _Debauched Steel_ to softly cackle.

"If you can't learn from our past experiences, Mr. Enigmar, you're never going to win." Kristoph sneers before turning to the camera. "I'm Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank DJJ680 for submitting the idea for this chapter.


	32. Oldbag

**Name:** Wendy Oldbag

 **Vehicle:** Battle Axe ( _Like its driver, this rust bucket is loud, very active despite its age, and spews only hot air thanks to a broken air conditioner that Oldbag hasn't gotten around to fixing._ )

 **Vehicle Armor:** 2/5 ( _Oldbag insists that her vehicle isn't sturdy because it's a flower as beautiful, delicate, and refined as her. Of course, we didn't believe that for even a second, but when we told Oldbag that she has all the beauty and refinement of a dried grapefruit, she went on an hour-long rant about how our generation couldn't appreciate beauty because our faces are glued to computers._ )

 **Vehicle Speed:** 4/5 ( _Oldbag wanted a higher speed rating, but those whippersnappers down at the DMV threatened to take her license away if she drove anything faster after what happened the last time. So what if she swerved off the road and fatally wounded three people because she caught a glimpse of her Edgey-poo outside of the Prosecutor's Office? The man was bending over to pick up a file that he accidentally dropped. You'd have to be crazy_ _ **not**_ _to look over at him. But then again, with how inefficient those whippersnappers at the DMV are, Oldbag has her doubts._ )

 **Vehicle Handling:** Very Tight ( _When you spend as many years stalking people as Oldbag, you learn that one of the most important keys to success is always keeping up with your target. If they zig, you zig; if they zag, you zag; and if they drive a car with top-of-the-line handling, then you upgrade your vehicle to do the same._ )

 **Special Weapon:** 3/5 ( _Stalker's Fury- Never provoke a person who has dedicated their existence to stalking people that they have feelings for, especially someone who has a car full of merchandise based off of said people. Otherwise, they may just give your vehicle a little surprise. Maybe your view will be obstructed thanks to some Juan Corrida hair gel splattering on your windshield; or perhaps your hood will be dented in by a Jack Hammer bowling ball. But no matter what Oldbag throws out her window, it won't be a pleasant experience._ )

 **Bio:** The youth of today are the worst! They're selfish, ungrateful brats who don't listen to a single word their elders have to say. Back in my day, if an adult told us to do something, we did it because we were taught respect. Nowadays, whippersnappers are raised to believe that each and every one of them is a special little snowflake. That's why they never want to work! Back in my day, if we wanted something, we worked for it- we got paper routes, started lemonade stands, and worked our fingers to the bone doing chores! But do you see that kind of work ethic in whippersnappers? No! They just sit on their keisters begging for money because God forbid they have to spend even a minute of their lives working! And don't get me started on their outfits! If I had a dollar for every miniskirt or pair of pants so loose and baggy that they're practically falling off, I'd be a billionaire! I swear, kids these days make me so angry!

Ok, not _all_ youths make me angry. My Edgey-poo is the main reason for that. Why, that man brings a sense of much-needed class to his generation. He's polite, he speaks with respect to his elders, and he looks quite dashing in that suit of his. Sure, Edgey-poo hasn't been very open to the idea of starting a relationship with me, but that's only because he's a gentleman and likes to take things slow. However, while I can respect that kind of restraint in a man, I'm a woman with needs and would like him to speed things up just a bit.

* * *

Kristoph has never believed in divine retribution or karma or any of that other kind of nonsense that people use to scare children into behaving. If people were punished for doing bad deeds, then why have people throughout time been able to amass great deals of fortune and power through wrongdoings? And for that matter, why were people who had done nothing wrong in their life punished with sickness, injuries, and death? Plus, if some deity was actually interested in establishing justice, why wouldn't they just prevent horrible deeds from being performed in the first place? Sure, many people would state that such intervention would go against the notion of free will, but Kristoph doesn't buy any of that. For if a person is punished after doing a horrible deed, it creates the same outcome of discouragement that would be established if they had been stopped before it even happened. Actually, no. There would be differences: justice would be delivered more efficiently and less people would have to suffer.

However, while Kristoph personally doesn't agree with the notion of divine retribution, he never feels disdain towards those who believe in it so long as they keep their opinions to themselves. But when those opinions are vocalized- particularly by the people who were present in the courthouse before and after his trial, telling him that he would burn in Hell for his sins- he can't help but feel furious. Who are these mouth breathers to judge _him_ , Kristoph Gavin, while ignoring the crimes of Phoenix Wright? Sure, the former attorney may have murdered a man, but Shadi Enigmar was a monster who deserved to be put down; a monster who left a trail of treason and tragedy in his wake as he fled from justice. And what of Wright? What was _his_ excuse for his actions? It's one thing to fight for justice, but when you go as far to forge evidence that flies in the face of everything that you claim to stand for, it becomes something else- something darker and more hypocritical.

But at this moment, standing face-to-face with Wendy Oldbag, the infamous Wicked Witch of the Witness Stand, the host of _Debauched Steel_ can't help but start to believe that perhaps all that stuff about divine retribution isn't entirely poppycock.

"Congratulations on your victory, Ms. Oldbag." Kristoph states with a warm grin. "As the winner of _Debauched Steel_ , you-"

"My, my, I never expected you to be so handsome!" Oldbag exclaims as her cheeks start to redden, causing the demented host to reel back out of shock.

"M-Ms. Oldbag, I hardly feel that this is appropriate for-" Kristoph tries to reply in a disturbed tone, his hand covering his face as he pushes up his glasses in order to hide just how distraught he's feeling, only to be immediately interrupted by the outspoken elder.

"Don't be so modest, dearie!" Oldbag chirps with a wave of her hand. "You're a stud! You don't know how many television hosts have that sleazy Hollywood appearance- like they're trying to look like some frat boy that wandered off the street. But you actually look so refined with that flowing hair that's neatly styled, your wonderful posture, and that well-pressed suit of yours. Why, you remind me a lot of my late husband, Cyrus Renseless, bless his soul. He was a man of few words just like you, and also looked very stunning in glasses. Why, when we first met…"

 _First that one creepy checker at the grocery store, and now this? What is it with me and attracting abrasive older women?! Curse Mother for making me style my hair like this every day since I was ten! Klavier had the right idea in leaving the country by studying abroad to cut his hair. But then again, it wasn't like I didn't try. I would have been able to take that semester in London had Mother not tried to stow away in my suitcase and got me detained by airport security. And it didn't help one bit that she wouldn't stop hugging and crying all over me during the entire investigation like some delirious tick! Now thanks to her, I'm indefinitely barred from international travel. Then again, it's not like Klavier got off any easier, what with Mother angrily confronting him on the matter every day until his hair grew back, whether by phone or in person._

 _Oh my god, is she seriously still talking? How can any normal human speak for that long without taking a breath? Wait, why don't I just interrupt her and move things- On second thought, I've studied enough of Wright's trials to know that once Windbag goes on one of these rants, only a miracle can stop her. If only I could use my powers and snap her out of existence… But alas, if I did that, I'd receive a lot of flak from the audience. Hopefully, she'll wish for Edgeworth to fall head-over-heels for her so that way I can have him fumble off a cliff. Maybe that would shut her up for at least a few seconds. Or perhaps-_

"Yoo-hoo! Khrissy-poo, are you listening?" Oldbag sweetly asks, prompting the host of Debauched Steel to briskly shake his head so as to help him return to reality.

"Sorry about that, Ms. Oldbag. My mind was merely occupied with other matters."

"Oh, don't worry about it, dearie. Oh, and by the way, you don't have to be so formal with me. You can just call me Grandma!" The geriatric stalker squeals, causing the former defense attorney's body to shudder.

"Thank you for the offer, but I would like to keep our relationship as professional as possible. Though while on that topic, if you don't mind, could you please make your wish? I have other obligations that I have to attend to." _Such as banging my head against a wall until I forget this encounter._

"My, how polite!" Oldbag exclaims. "It's so refreshing it is to find a youth who actually knows how to use the word 'please'. You don't know how many snot-nosed whippersnappers bark out orders to their elders like they're drill sergeants. Why, back in _my_ day, if we so much as looked at our elders funny, we were given five across the eyes. I swear, the old saying is true, if you spare the rod, the child is spoiled rotten like moldy cheese! That's why kids these days think that their invincible- taking drugs and engaging in all kinds of shenanigans. How do you expect to get a good job when you're living your life out like those Hollywood types? But it's not like it matters to these kids who spend all their times on their phone, sipping their coffees and getting all worked up over their face-pages and slabs and all that other electronic nonsense! I swear, why can't more kids be like my Edgey-poo? Not only does he dress to the nines, but he speaks just as eloquently. I have never once heard him say even a single curse word. He's not like kids these nowadays who swear in every sentence like they're sailors on a garbage barge! If half of whippersnappers these days were even remotely similar to Edgey-poo, the world would be a much better place! And don't even get me started on his chiseled physique, silky hair, and buns of steel…" The geriatric stalker longingly sighs as she thinks about her unfortunate victim. "I just wish that Edgey-poo would return my feelings of love and-"

"Granted!" Kristoph hastily interjects.

The host of _Debauched Steel_ raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, Oldbag finds herself standing in the middle of the Prosecutor's Office's parking garage.

"Whippersnapper!" Oldbag roars, her face red with anger as her nostrils flare. "I want to be intimate Edgey-poo, not the place he works! Where's my Edgey-poo!?"

"Right here, my love." Edgeworth seductively purrs into his stalker's ear as he gently wraps his arms around her torso from behind.

"E-Edgey-poo?" Oldbag asks with a tone of utter disbelief, her eyes the size of saucers at the prospect of her beloved crimson knight actually embracing her.

"That's right, Wendy-poo." Edgeworth replies as he walks around so that he is now face-to-face with his geriatric stalker. "I'm so sorry about my tardiness. I was stuck filling out files for an upcoming trial. I know that I'm chief prosecutor, but don't these whippersnappers realize that while murder is terrible, leaving my darling Wendy-poo waiting is even worse?!" The maroon-cladder prosecutor seethes with clenched fists. "I swear, the youth of today-"

"Forget about those whippersnappers, Edgey-poo." Oldbag calmly responds, wrapping her arms around her beloved as she brings him in for a hug, resting her head against his chest as if it's the most comfortable pillow ever made. "What matters is that you and I are finally together and can enjoy each other's company."

"You're right, Wendy-poo. But let me ask you something. Do you love me?"

"Like you need to ask, Edgey-poo? I love you with every fiber of my being!" Oldbag proclaims as she looks up into her beloved's sparkling grey eyes with a grin of pure happiness and red cheeks.

"I'm glad you feel that way, Wend-poo, and my feelings are identical to yours. Why, I love you so much that I can't help but-"

Edgeworth cuts himself off midsentence as he slams his head into his geriatric stalker's, sending the elderly woman tumbling to the ground.

"Edgey-poo, what's wrong with you?!" Oldbag screeches as she scrambles to her feet. "Have you lost your mind?!"

Edgeworth slowly shakes his head. "Oh, no, Wendy-poo, I'm quite sane. You see, love hurts, and I love you a whole lot." The prosecutor states with a sinister grin as he pulls a pistol out of his suitcoat and aims it at his beloved.

"Edgey-poo, don't-" Oldbag tries to exclaim with a look of sheer terror, only to be interrupted by the man of her dreams firing a shot at her head that just barely misses its mark.

"Curse your beauty and how it makes my knees shake like jelly…!" Edgeworth growls. "Hopefully this next shot shall pierce your soul just as Cupid's arrow has pierced mine…" The maroon-cladded prosecutor longingly sighs with a goofy grin on his face, his cheeks reddening as he more carefully aims his weapon.

"Noooo!" Oldbag screams as she dashes away from the deranged prosecutor, running serpentine in order to dodge his bullets, wasting no time in jumping in her vehicle and locking the doors.

Though good thing Oldbag did lock her doors, because barely a second after she did, Edgeworth starts trying to open the driver's door with every ounce of his strength. And when that strategy proves to be fruitless, the famed prosecutor proceeds to vigorously kiss the window, almost as if he's trying to drill his way in like some love-struck woodpecker.

But unfortunately for Edgeworth, he doesn't get a chance to see if this new plan could succeed due to Oldbag starting up her vehicle with a powerful roar before backing out of the parking spot and speeding towards the parking garage's exit like a bat out of Hell.

"I don't know what's gotten into Edgey-poo. Is he overworked?" Oldbag ponders for a bit before a sultry grin spreads across her face. "Maybe I can help relieve some of the pressure by giving him a massage, putting on some Berry White, and treating him to a night of-"

As if on cue, the elderly woman is interrupted by her right side-view mirror being shattered by one of Edgeworth's bullets as the prosecutor races up next to her vehicle in his red Boxster.

"Be still my beating heart…" Edgeworth sighs with delight as he stares longingly at his beloved from his lowered window, one hand on the gun that he is aiming at her vehicle and the other firmly gripping his steering wheel. "I shall forever savor this moment of delight; this moment where the life shall fade from your body, your last thoughts devoted to me and only me. Oh, I can just picture you dying with such elegant grace, just like the tender lily upon the first frost of-"

Suddenly, Edgeworth is stopped, both in terms of movement and his soliloquy, when his car crashes into the wall separating the parking garage from the outside world with a loud crash, thus allowing Oldbag to speed up the ramp and into the streets of L.A.

Upon exiting his vehicle to inspect the damages, the Chief Prosecutor can't help but slam his fist on the damaged hood which has been dented in like a discarded soda can and spewing smoke like a toaster that's been cooking a piece of toast for too long.

"Damn it!" Edgeworth snarls. "Now what am I supposed to do?!"

"Guten tag, Herr Edgeworth." Klavier calls out as he stops his motorcycle next to his superior's devastated car. "What happened to your car? Do you need my help?" The rock star prosecutor asks with a tone of genuine concern, only to be pushed off his bike by his boss, who wastes no time in claiming it for himself.

"Not cool, Herr Edgeworth! What was that for!?" Klavier yells, glaring daggers at the maroon-cladded man who doesn't even bother to give him eye contact.

"I'm sorry, Prosecutor Gavin, but when you truly love a person, you're willing to go to any lengths to express those feelings…as if you could ever understand." Edgeworth sneers before speeding off on the purple motorcycle.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?!" Klavier roars, only for his question to be left unanswered as his boss races forth out onto the streets of L.A. to chase down his beloved.

* * *

"Whew…" Oldbag sighs in relief as she drives down the street away from the Prosecutor's Office. "I think I got away from Edgey-poo. But I still can't believe that he's gone off the deep end like this. Maybe I've been a bit too forceful with my attempts to woo him… Yes, that's probably it. Maybe the best thing for me to do would be to give Edgey-poo a bit of space so that he can-"

"WEEEEEEEENNNNNNDDDDYYYYYYYYYY!" Edgeworth screams at the top of his lungs in a shrill, desperate tone, cutting off the elderly woman's thoughts as he weaves in and out of traffic in his mad pursuit of her, prompting her to increase her own vehicle's speed to escape.

"Edgey-poo, I never thought I'd say this, but I think maybe we should take a break from each other- see other people, you know?" Oldbag pleads after rolling down her window in a desperate attempt to reason with one of the men that she loves.

"Never!" Edgeworth snarls, a look of madness filling his now saucer-sized eyes. "The only way I'll ever leave your lovely presence will be when Death's icy grip tears me away!" The Chief Prosecutor proclaims as he whips out his pistol and fires several more rounds at his love interest's car- all of which fail horribly at hitting their mark, instead merely hitting the taillights, back bumper, side mirrors, or nothing at all.

"Oh, if only there was some way for me to stop that dashing maniac in his tracks! But what can I do when- Wait, that's it!" Oldbag exclaims, a look of inspiration flashing across her face as she immediately slams on her breaks, causing her car to come to an abrupt stop.

While this strategy may seem suicidal, it works just as Oldbag planned when the motorcycle slams against her back bumper, launching Edgeworth off of the bike and onto her windshield back-first with a thud. Taking advantage of her deranged pursuer's momentary pause, the infamous geriatric stalker slams on the gas as speeds forward, sending the Chief Prosecutor flying back like a discarded newspaper and on top the stolen purple motorcycle which is lying on its side.

"Ah, Wendy, you're intelligence is only matched by your beauty…" Edgeworth longingly states as he dusts himself and gets back onto his feet. "But this was but a mere setback." The maroon-cladded prosecutor says with a tone of optimism as he returns the motorcycle to its upright position. "Yes, you'll see, Wendy, that it will take more than mere quick wit to get rid of-"

Edgeworth's hope-filled words are cut short when he hears a loud horn, followed by the sight of the blaring headlights of an 18-wheeler barreling towards him, giving him only enough time to stare into the bright lights like a frightened deer before the large truck runs both him and the motorcycle down.

Of course, the impact is noticed by the truck's driver, Gumshoe, in the form of a bump, prompting the scruffy man to immediately stop the truck and leap out.

"Oh boy!" Gumshoe exclaims with childlike joy and an excited grin on his face. "Did I hit a opossum, or a hawk…! Oh, maybe I hit one of those big vultures! Well, whatever it is, if it's edible, I'm fine with it. I mean, it's not like I can be picky with what I eat thanks to my pay always being cut by- !" The scruffy detective screams as he rushes over to his superior's battered and bruised body, holding him in his arms like one would a wounded child. "Mr. Edgeworth, I'm so sorry! I was in a hurry because I was behind schedule! I didn't mean to hurt you, sir! Honest! I may have been a little angry at you for always cutting my pay and making me have to work a bunch of extra jobs just to survive, but I never wanted anything like this to happen! Please, sir, speak to me! The world can't live without you and your logic!"

Gumshoe, with tears streaming down his cheeks, proceeds to vigorously shake his boss' body in a desperate attempt to revive him… an effort that's actually successful when the Chief Prosecutor weakly opens his eyes.

"G-Gumshoe…" Edgeworth weakly states, his voice barely a whisper.

"Mr. Edgeworth, you're alive!" Gumshoe jovially bellows at the top of his lungs, his gaze pointed towards the heavens before returning to his superior.

"Gumshoe… Please, help your friend… Redeem yourself in my eyes… by helping me with a task."

"Anything, Mr. Edgeworth! You name it, I'll help you!"

"I must show Wendy-poo the extent of my love!" Edgeworth yells, his left eye starting to twitch as an eerily large toothy grin spreads across his face.

* * *

Oldbag may have not seen hide or hair of Edgeworth ever since she escaped him with that sudden stop, but she's not taking any chances. She's seen the disturbing extents to which a person is willing to go to when they're madly in love with someone thanks to her own efforts. That's why the infamous geriatric stalker is currently speeding through the winding roads leading up through the mountains on the outskirts of L.A.

But despite Oldbag's best attempt to escape, her breathing becomes shallow when she sees a massive 18-wheeler racing towards her with Edgeworth- his upper half sticking out of the passenger's side window- chuckling maniacally as he stares at his target with large unblinking eyes.

"Come on, come on, come on, let's go love truckin'!" Edgeworth cackles as he pulls out two pistols and begins to unleash a barrage of rapid-fire bullets at Oldbag's car like some kind of deranged Yosemite Sam. But just like all of the previous times, the Chief Prosecutor's shots all miss horribly.

"Uh, Mr. Edgeworth, I'm not judging you, but isn't this a bit… I don't know, excessive?" Gumshoe asks with a look of concern, earning a death glare from his superior.

"I don't underpay you to have opinions, Gumshoe! Now drive faster or I'll shower what little remains of your salary with my love!" Edgeworth snarls before returning to firing off his guns as the scruffy detective slams his foot on the gas, causing the truck to get dangerously close to Oldbag's vehicle.

"I didn't want to have to have to resort to this, Edgey-poo…" Oldbag reluctantly states as she rolls down her window. "But you've left me no choice. Protect me, my handsome lovelies! Protect your darling Wendy in the form of your merchandise!"

Oldbag proceeds to throw one of her Jack Hammer bowling balls at the truck which merely dents the front grill; immediately followed by a several Evil Magistrate bobble heads which just bounce off the front like rain off a duck's back; which is then quickly followed up by the elderly woman weaponizing an item that she bought when Jack Hammer was really cashing in on his popularity: a wooden life-sized replica of him that sings _Ol Man River_ when its left arm is tapped. However, despite the replica's size, all it does is cause the truck to swerve left upon impact before quickly straightening out.

Oldbag then decides to go for a different angle- if she can't stop the truck with brute force, maybe she could obstruct their view and cause it to crash. So without wasting any time, the infamous stalker pulls out a bottle of Juan Corrida hair gel and tosses it up towards the windshield, and sure enough, it explodes upon impact with its target, coating the window with a thick green gel.

Though unfortunately for Oldbag, her victory is very short-lived when Gumshoe merely wipes away the gel with the truck's windshield wipers.

"Hair gel will not save you from my love, Wendy." Edgeworth nonchalantly states with a sinister smirk.

Looking around her car for anything that could possibly help her, Oldbag sees a few gel packs of Matt Engarde spring breeze-scented toilet cleaner that she received as a bonus for working security for the Hero of Heroes Grand Prix back in 2018. Sure, the geriatric stalker despised that whippersnapper Engarde with a passion, especially after what he did to her poor Juan, but drastic times call for drastic measures.

So with only the slightest bit of hesitation, Oldbag throws the gel packs at the truck, desperately hoping that they would do something, anything to help her. But while the packs miss the windshield entirely, they fly through the gaps of the dented grill that were created by the bowling ball, where upon contact with the truck's hot engine, their highly combustible contents explode. This, in turn, triggers a chain reaction which results in the truck being engulfed in flames, becoming a literal fireball, before being wiped off the face of the earth in one final deafening explosion.

Though while the truck and Gumshoe are no more, Edgeworth has never been one to give up so easily. Leaping forth from the burning wreckage like a lion pouncing on its prey, the Chief Prosecutor lands on top of Oldbag's car and does everything in his power to try to break through her rear window, using every ounce of his being to resist the pain of his entire body being set ablaze… either that, or the maroon-cladded prosecutor has been driven so mad by his feelings that he is completely oblivious to the state of his being.

Of course, upon seeing the sight of the once-sane man that she loves surviving a massive explosion and trying to break into her car so that he can kill her, like something out of a horror film, Oldbag panics, speeding through a safety rail and off of a cliff.

The car rolls down the mountain, the body being dented in on all sides by the rocks as the side view mirrors break off and fly back, unable to withstand the punishment. But despite all of this, Edgeworth hangs onto the back of car like a barnacle to the hull of a ship, unwilling to let go no matter what. Even when the car finally hits the ground, throwing Oldbag through the windshield before exploding, the Chief Prosecutor refuses to let go.

After picking herself up off of the ground, relived that she only suffered a few scratches and bruises, Oldbag looks at the flaming wreck that was once her car and is washed over with an immense feeling sadness. Sure, Edgeworth tried to kill her, but he was finally showing an interest in her. Not to mention, it doesn't help one's self-esteem when three of one's admirers face brutal, untimely deaths.

"Oh, Edgey-poo…" Oldbag sniffles, a single tear trickling down her cheek. "Why did it have to be this way?

"Don't worry, Wendy-poo. I don't blame you at all…"

"E-Edgey-poo?" Oldbag nervously asks, her complexion becoming pale upon seeing Edgeworth limp out from the burning wreckage, his outfit reduced to mere patches of charred fabric, his flesh burnt off in numerous places on his body leaving only muscle, or worse yet, just bone. Though arguably the most grotesque part of the Chief Prosecutor's body is his head, the left half of which is just his skull with the grey eye- the sclera now a blood-red- dangling out of its socket like a pendulum, rocking back and forth with each step.

"I don't blame you because I love you… and I love you till death do us part." Edgeworth maniacally laughs as he pulls a sharp piece of scrap metal out of his torso and lunges at his geriatric stalker, her screams of terror ringing out and echoing thanks to the mountainous area.

However, despite how loud Oldbag screams for help are, the only person around to hear them is Kristoph, who has been observing the scene unfold from atop a lofty peak.

"Nothing hurts more than being disappointed by the single person you thought would never hurt you… except of course, when that person actually kills you." Kristoph sneers before turning to the camera. "I am Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank IamMelapples for submitting the idea for this chapter. Though speaking of reviews, since this one was written by a guest, I'll reply to it here.

 **DJJ680:** I'm glad you liked how I handled your Zak suggestion. But while on that topic, I want to apologize to you and several other people who have submitted reviews in the past containing suggestions that I have not replied to. Y'see, when I see a suggestion, I enter a brainstorming period that can be as short as a few weeks or as long as a few years. So with that in mind, I don't want to set anything in stone by replying, nor do I want to risk giving away too much details about my plans with how enthusiastic I can get, so I choose to simply stay quiet. Once again, I apologize to you and any other readers who have been given the impression that I have been ignoring them due to my lack of responses or lack of idea use. I've been feeling bad about this for quite some time and wish to make things right with all of the fans who I may have wronged with my silence, starting with this reply.


	33. Amara

**Name:** Amara Sigatar Khura'in

 **Vehicle:** Carriage of Khura'in ( _This vehicle may just be a wooden cart pulled by a single yak, but its simplicity allows for Amara to aid her people and the Holy Mother by freeing herself from the distractions of material wealth._ )

 **Vehicle Armor:** 5/5 ( _The Carriage of Khura'in may not look sturdy, but don't let appearances fool you. For through Amara's dedication to the Holy Mother, Her Holiness has fortified its defenses beyond those of standard vehicles._ )

 **Vehicle Speed:** 1/5 ( _Good things come to those who wait; slow and steady wins the race; Rome wasn't built in a day. If one wishes to attain inner peace through the teachings of the Holy Mother, then one must take these sayings to heart. Think of life like a path travelling through a lush meadow. If you run down the road, you may reach your destination faster, but you'll miss out on the journey. However, if you decide to walk down the path, you can truly admire the vivid rainbow of flowers and smell their pleasing aromas, truly enjoy the bluebird's tweet, and truly savor the warm glow of sunlight on your skin. In the end, whether you walk or run, you'll reach your destination; but only with the former do you gain an experience; and with that experience, you take one step towards Her Holiness and enlightenment._ )

 **Vehicle Handling:** Very Tight ( _If you put your faith in the Holy Mother, you will never go off course._ )

 **Special Attack:** 3/5 ( _Orb of Protection- A true follower of the Holy Mother never raises their hand in violence; for that would only start a cycle of vengeance and suffering as perpetual as that of day and night. However, that doesn't mean that the Holy Mother abandons Her followers when they're on the receiving end of the sword's cold blade. On the contrary, Her Holiness will directly protect Her most faithful by surrounding them in an impenetrable bubble of spiritual energy, keeping them safe from all attacks that may come their way. Though one must remember, nothing lasts forever and the bubble is no different, existing for only ten minutes before fading into oblivion; at which point, it will require a five minute cooldown period before it can be used again._ )

 **Bio:** Greetings, I am Amara Sigatar Khura'in. For generations, the women of my family, the descendants of the Holy Mother, have led the country of Khura'in with the ability to channel spirits that we have been blessed with by our most holy ancestor and have established a golden era of peace. But even though we have never strayed from the teachings of Her Holiness, a sinister cloud of evil has cast the world into darkness. This sinister cloud, Kristoph Gavin, endangers all of existence with both his evil powers and malicious desires. That is why I am participating in this competition despite the fact that Her Holiness abhors violence in all forms, so that I may rid the world of Mr. Gavin and his sinister ways. However, I will not be doing this with violence, but rather with peace. For when darkness is fought, it is merely repelled, only coming back when light is absent. But when darkness blends with light, twilight is formed, and with it, the path to the Holy Mother and peace.

* * *

When people win a competition, they don't hesitate to revel in their victory. They gloat, they smirk, and they walk with a slight spring in their step as if nothing in this world that could even scathe them. At least, that's always how Kristoph handled victory- that moment in time when one proves to the world that one is the best at what one does. After all, what's the point of winning and competition in general if you _aren't_ going to boast about your triumphs?

So when the host of _Debauched Steel_ sees Amara approach him with calm, refined steps and a small smile that exuded a sense of serenity and modesty, he's slightly puzzled. How can this woman remain so calm at such a time? Even if the former queen isn't concerned with winning- though how could she _not_ be when the prize is the ability to wish for nearly anything that her heart desires?- she should at least be upset that her loved ones were brutally killed in the competition. But then again, considering what Amara subjected her children to simply because she didn't want to upset her sister, maybe that latter part isn't so surprising.

"Congratulations on winning _Debauched Steel_ , Ms. Khura'in. So, what'll your wish be?" Kristoph asks with a warm grin and crossed arms.

"My only wish is to know why you are the way you are, Mr. Gavin." Amara politely states with a caring look in her eyes, prompting the host of _Debauched Steel_ to flinch a bit.

"You do realize that you can wish for practically anything you desire, right? For example, I could make you the ruler of Khura'in once more. Wouldn't you like that, to live the peaceful life you once had?" Kristoph asks with a devilishly enticing tone.

"While that would be nice, it would be but a temporary solution" Amara says with closed eyes as she slowly moves her hands in circular motions. "For if I accept that offer, you would be free to wreak havoc upon the world with your dark powers. That is why I desire to understand just what made you the cold, misguided man that you are today so that I may help set you on the path of redemption."

"If that's what you want, then who am I to deny you?" Kristoph smirks with a shake of his head.

The host of _Debauched Steel_ raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. However, before he can grant the wish, he is interrupted by a female voice that he knows, and fears, all too well.

"Khrissy! Khrissy, is that you over there?" The woman enthusiastically calls out, prompting the ex-defense attorney's complexion to go pale as he quickly lowers his arms.

"No! No! This can't be! This isn't happening! Please tell me that this isn't happening!" Kristoph shouts as grabs Amara's shoulders, his saucer-sized blue eyes mere inches away from her terrified teal orbs.

"I do not know what you are referring to, Mr. Gavin." The former queen states with a tone of unease as she slowly pushes the host of _Debauched Steel_ off of her. "A person calling out to you?"

"You foolish woman!" Kristoph snarls as his left eye starts to twitch. "That's no ordinary person, that's-"

Suddenly, as if on cue, a slender woman with long, wavy blonde hair that flows down her shoulders and who is wearing a pair of round glasses with pink frames, a mint-green blouse, and a pair of blue jeans with a face that looks like a softer version of the demented host's rushes over to him.

"Kristoph, thank goodness I've finally found you!" The woman exclaims as she squeezes the demented host in a bear hug. "I feel like I'm the luckiest woman alive!"

 _Strange, because I'm starting to feel like the unluckiest person on the face of the earth right now._ "Hello… Mother." Kristoph growls as he frees himself from the woman's grasp.

"Why are you feeling so down, Khrissy?" The demented host's mother asks with a look of concern on her face. "You should be happy to see your dear old mom..."

"That's exactly why I'm upset. You're not supposed to be here." Kristoph curtly states as he pushes up his glasses.

"Kristoph Konni Gavin!" The woman exclaims, her hands firmly on her hips as she glares at her son. "When did you start thinking that it's alright to talk to your mother like that?"

"When I was given powers that allow me to bend reality at will and my own television show, which you-"

"Television, you say?" The woman states with obvious interest in her voice, interrupting her son as she looks over to the camera while styling her hair. "Why didn't you tell me that you were starring in a television show, Khrissy? And more importantly, why haven't _I_ been given any screen time? I dedicate my life to raising both you and your brother and this is the thanks I get?"

"Mother, that's not it." Kristoph sighs in exasperation. "You're not part of this show because-"

"I get it, you and Klavier think you're too cool to hang around your mother- you want to be your own men, just like your father was at your age. I completely understand. But at least your brother has the decency to dedicate a song to me every once in a while. Is that too much to ask, Khrissy? Is it too much for a mother to receive a bit of appreciation from her son?" The woman asks with an obviously fake whimper in her voice.

"And is it too much to ask-"

"And another thing…" The woman states, once again cutting off her son. "Why is the city on fire and in ruins? I don't like that, Kristoph. It's evil. Why can't you use your powers to make things nice, like a romantic comedy where two people fall madly in love? There's enough negativity in this world with all those medicine and cancer commercials. Oh, I have an even better idea!" Mama Gavin chirps with a look of excitement in her eyes. "Why don't you have a show like _The Bachelor_ where you find a nice woman to marry and make me lots of beautiful grandba-"

"Mother, please!" Kristoph snaps, casting a death glare at the woman as his left eye begins to twitch. "You have no right to criticize _my_ demolition derby which entails numerous people from our world fighting to the death- especially since you aren't even an actual person! You're not part of this universe!"

"A demolition derby…?" The woman sternly parrots back as she pushes up her glasses. "When your father decided to get us cable television when you were a young boy, I knew that something like this would happen? I KNEW that your sweet, beautiful mind would get poisoned by all those shoot-em-up detective programs and evil zombie dramas. But did your father listen to me? No! 'Kharmen, Kristoph's a big boy. He knows what shows he should watch.' That's what your father told me, but he should have listened to me! He knows that I'm always right, and now look!"

" _That's_ what's bothering you?" Kristoph asks with a tone of legitimate shock. "Not the fact that you're not a real person, but that I'm hosting a demolition derby?"

"Don't be silly, Khrissy." Kharmen titters with a dismissive wave of her hand. "After all, I'm your mother! And another thing-"

Before Mama Gavin can finish, Kristoph makes her vanish into thin air with a snap of his fingers.

"Thank goodness…" The host of _Debauched Steel_ sighs in relief. "Why didn't I think of that sooner?"

However, Kristoph's victory is short-lived when Kharmen instantly reappears as if nothing happened and continuing right where she left off.

"Are you making sure to use the bathroom frequently? Because I know how sensitive your bladder gets and I don't want you having another accident like that one time during your fifth grade play. I will never forget how sad I felt for you on that day…" Mama Gavin whimpers as she puts her hand to her heart, her head tilted to the side as she brushes a few loose strands of hair away from her eyes. "The way the other children started laughing at you before you burst into tears and ran offstage."

"Wha- HOW!?" Kristoph exclaims as he reels back in shock. "I used my powers to erase you from existence! You shouldn't be here!"

"Don't underestimate what a good mom can do, Khrissy." Kharmen cheerfully states with a smile.

As if seeing his mother's remark as a challenge, Kristoph snaps his fingers again, causing Kharmen to disappear once more; only for her to come right back, which in turn prompts the deranged host to make her vanish a third time; thus, creating a cycle of disappearance and reappearance that continues for a good ten minutes.

"Are you done, Kristoph?" Kharmen asks in a matter-of-factly tone, narrowing her gaze as she gently taps her foot.

"Fine! You can stay!" The host of _Debauched Steel_ snaps. "Just please stay out of my way while I grant the winner's wish… Sorry about that, Ms. Khura'in." Kristoph states as he redirects his attention to Amara, who was patiently watching the heated discussion between him and his mother with a smile on her face. "I'll grant your wish right-"

"Wait!" Kharmen interjects as her son raises his arms to grant the wish. "Did you just say 'Khura'in', Kristoph?"

"And didn't I tell you to stay out of my way until the episode is finished?" Kristoph hisses back.

"Kristoph, please answer my question. Is that, or is that not, Amara Sigatar Khura'in, the former Queen of Khura'in?" Kharmen asks as she directs her narrowing gaze at the winner of _Debauched Steel_.

"You are correct, Mrs. Gavin." Amara jovially states as she approaches Mama Gavin. "Though I must say, I am quite surprised. Most people from your country don't even know of Khura'in's existence, let alone its royal family."

"Of course I know about your country." Kharmen smirks. "As the mother of a prosecutor who loves to travel internationally, it's my duty to know about all the dangers that my baby could run into… including that group of terrorists led by your ex-husband."

"While I can understand your logic, Mrs. Gavin, I have to disagree." Amara states with a serious look on her face. "Dhurke and his Defiant Dragons, while fervent in their goals, never spilled a single drop of blood. So I hardly think that it is fair to call them terrorists."

Yes, but they did invoke terror; hence, they are terrorists." Kharmen curtly retorts as she pushes up her glasses. "But while your husband is a peace-threatening brute who is half the man that my Koen is, he's at least a decent parent in that he _tried_ to raise your son… which is more than I can say about you."

"Excuse me?" Amara asks, cocking her head in confusion.

"You heard me, Khura'in. You're a horrible mother whose lackluster parenting has produced a miscreant of a son."

"And just what is so wrong with Nahyuta? He was an upstanding, spiritual man who is dedicated to both his country and his family." Amara states with closed eyes as she slowly moves her hands in circular motions.

"Oh, that boy of yours is spiritual alright… He _oozes_ spirituality when he's prosecuting and telling everyone who doesn't agree with him that they're going to rot in Hell. And on top of that, your son is sexist! That's right, I've seen the way he treats female detectives when they cover his cases on international news- threatening to cut their pay and making them listen to his sermons whenever they make a mistake. My Klavier, on the other hand, is a perfect gentleman in the courtroom who treats both the defense and detective with nothing but kindness and respect- a trait that he inherited from me." Kharmen smirks.

"I am sorry that I was not able to play a greater role in my son's life on account of me dying in a house fire when he was but a young boy. Perhaps I should utilize this second chance at life given to me by your other son and raise Nahyuta- Oh, right; I am unable to on account of _your_ son forcing me, Nahyuta, and countless others to fight to the death in his twisted television show, of which I am the sole survivor." Amara states with closed eyes, her head tilted to the side and the wind gently blowing through her hair as she is lost in thought.

"Don't you talk that way about my son! Kristoph can't help it if he gets enthusiastic! It's just one of the many wonderful traits that he inherited from me, his mother who loves and supports him no matter what!" Kharmen snarls with crossed arms as she glares daggers at the former queen. "I don't care if you died in that fire. Even in death, a mother doesn't stop being a mother. Why, when I die, I'll be visiting Kristoph and Klavier while they sleep and giving them advice in their dreams like a nice version of Freddy Krueger!"

"Are you just going to stand there and let your mother belittle me, Mr. Gavin?" Amara politely asks, albeit with a hint of frustration in her voice, while the host of Debauched Steel watches the argument unfold with an amused look on his face.

"You wanted to see why I am the way that I am, yes? Well, you're having a conversation with it." Kristoph sneers. "Plus, even though I am fully aware that this woman isn't really my mother, but rather a character created by a man almost as twisted as myself because he desired to explore my family life and had no other ideas for his weekly story that Friday, the memories that he created regarding our relationship have been seared into my mind and nothing- not even my incredible powers- can remove them. So with that in mind, after 32 years of dealing with Mother, I've learned that no force on this earth can stop her when she gets like this. So what do I have to gain by getting involved?"

"That's right, Khura'in. My Khrissy is a gentleman who knows his limits because I raised him to be that way. Though it also helps that he gets his intelligence and sense of refinement from my side of the family." Kharmen states as she strokes her son's right arm, prompting the ex-attorney to nudge her away.

"A gentleman who knows his limits? Are you blind? Look at the havoc that your son has wreaked upon this poor world!" Amara bellows with her arms outstretched, gesturing to the ruins of what used to be L.A. "If you truly believe that the countless deaths caused by your son's hand are acts of moderation, then you are a hypocrite who is no better. No wonder your son is the way he is! With how much of his behavior you let slide, I'm surprised that he hasn't…? Are you seriously styling your nails? At least have the common courtesy to wait until I am done talking." Amara grows upon seeing Kharmen take a bottle of nail polish out of the small mint-green purse that she has on her person and proceed to meticulously paint her well-styled fingernails.

"No, no, go on. I'm listening… I'm listening." Mama Gavin says with a tone of disinterest, not even bother to look up at the other woman.

"This is what I am referring to!" Amara roars, raising her left hand as a flash of lighting appears behind her followed by the loud boom of thunder. "You are a selfish, egotistical woman who has raised a selfish, egotistical man! Sure, Nahyuta had his flaws, but at least I am willing to admit that I am partially to blame for them. You, on the other hand, are too stubborn to realize that you have made your son into a demented psychopa- OW!" Amara screams as Kharmen scratches her face, leaving behind a small cut in the process. "That was quite uncalled for, Mrs. Gav-ack!"

The former queen grips her chest as the color starts to fade from her face. She tries her best to speak, but the only noises that can come out of her mouth are weak grunts as she sputters and gasps for air. With each passing second, her breathing becomes weaker and weaker as she falls to the ground, thrashing about like a fish out of water as she desperately tries to cling to life. But alas, despite her best efforts, Amara soon passes from this world, her body becoming limp and motionless.

"Khura'in, Khura'in, Khura'in…" Kharmen jeers with a shake of her head as she looks down at the former queen's corpse. "Did I forget to tell you that Kristoph also got his affinity for painting his nails from me? However, whereas my baby likes atroquinine, I prefer batrachotoxin. It gives the nails a nice shine while being able to kill a person within mere seconds."

"That's right, Ms. Khura'in. We inherit our murderous desires just as much as our genes." Kristoph sneers before turning to the camera. "I am Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching-"

"Kristoph, don't slouch. I want the nice viewers to see your beautiful posture. Who knows, your future wife and the mother of my grandbabies could be watching this episode and I don't want her thinking that you have back problems." Kharmen interjects, pushing at her son's back in order to straighten it out.

"Mother, please don't interrupt my conclusion." Kristoph snaps. "It helps to show the audience that I'm in control and a force to be reckoned with- something that can't be accomplished while you're being so overbearing."

"I'm not overbearing, Khrissy, I'm loving. There's a difference. And if those viewers can't appreciate that, then they aren't good enough for you!"

"I'm a grown man airing a television show, Mother, not a kindergartener who's trying to make friends with his classmates over cookies! So if you can please step aside…"

However, instead of heeding her son's request, Kharmen walks over to the camera.

"Listen here, viewers, my little petunia is trying his best with this show. So I want you to show him how much you care by watching every episode and giving him lots of nice comments. And if I hear that anyone is saying mean things about my baby boy, then I'll pootie tang them!" Kharmen yells as Kristoph pushes her out of the way.

"Now I know why Debeste didn't allow OCs on _Pick Your Poison!_ " The host of _Debauched Steel_ huffs, wasting no time in pushing a button on the camera which causes a picture of Kristoph in his deranged breakdown pose against a solid grey background with a caption underneath it that reads 'WE ARE CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES…' to appear on screen for the viewers at home.

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank JordanPhoenix and DJ680 for submitting the ideas used in this chapter. Though speaking of DJ680, here's my reply to their review from last chapter.

 **DJJ680:** Thanks for being so patient with my lack of responses, as well as being a great fan over the years. I hope you liked Kharmen's inclusion in this chapter. The best idea I could think of for torturing Amara before I saw your suggestion is one that I'm saving for Ga'ran, so it really helped out.


	34. Ga'ran

**Name:** Ga'ran Sigatar Khura'in

 **Vehicle:** The Contessa ( _This sleek purple sports car may have cost an arm and a leg, but it was more than worth it so that Ga'ran could have a vehicle that radiates elegance and class. After all, in this world, people judge your value as a person not by the quality of your character, but by how much your material possessions are worth. Plus, Ga'ran was easily able to pay for the vehicle by simply raising taxes for the poor. So in the end, everyone who matters won._ )

 **Vehicle Armor:** 1/5 ( _Do you think that Ga'ran's foolish enough to buy a vehicle under the assumption that it's going to be destroyed? Of course not! And for those people who preach that the Holy Mother will protect anything and anyone from harm if you have enough faith, they're delusional. The Holy Mother doesn't reward such childish fools for their recklessness._ )

 **Vehicle Speed:** 5/5 ( _Fast learners win; striking while the iron is hot; without a sense of urgency, desire loses its value. If you want to succeed in life, then you have to embrace these sayings. Life waits for no one, and if you're moving slowly, you'll be left in the dust and lost in the annals of history. That's why you must always be moving, always acting, and always keeping up with whatever life throws your way._ )

 **Vehicle Handling:** Sluggish ( _Ga'ran had the following to say when questioned about her vehicle's poor handling. "My husband, being the coward that he is, sabotaged my steering so that I could no longer chase after him whenever he tries to flee, drag his sorry carcass back to the palace upon catching him, and pleasure him in ways that most men would kill for. But the joke is on him, for when a woman wants something, nothing can stop her from obtaining it."_ )

 **Special Attack:** 3/5 ( _Spider's Maw- If there is one group of people that the Holy Mother admires, it's those who aren't afraid to fight back; the kind of people who don't make lemonade when life gives them lemons, but rather takes those lemons and squeezes their juice right in life's eyes. That's the idea behind the Spider's Maw. If anyone tries to attack Ga'ran, Her Eminence will retaliate with two industrial-strength prongs that will shock them straight to the Twilight Realm. However, in order to deliver the immense electrical payload, Ga'ran has to first drive up close to her victim before clamping the prongs onto the back of their vehicle._ )

 **Bio:** I am not my sister, so do not think for even a second that I will try to be sweet and innocent. I do not care what you commoners think of me, for I have more urgent matters to attend to- namely, reclaiming what I have worked so hard to achieve. Luckily, winning this competition should not prove to be all that difficult a task if my opponents- one of which is my pathetic "good" sister who has less spine than a jellyfish- are of any indication.

* * *

Kristoph is sitting on a bench off to the side of the road, reading _The Art of War_ as he waits for the winner of _Debauched Steel_ to come and claim their grand prize: the ability to wish for nearly anything that their heart desires. However, the deranged host doesn't have to wait for long, because no more than ten minutes after he first sat down, he feels a forceful finger jabbing into his shoulder.

"Ah, Ms. Khura'in, thank you for being prompt." Kristoph kindly replies with a warm grin as he looks up at the corrupt royal's cold, piercing eyes.

"That's _Queen_ Khura'in to you, Mr. Gavin. Make that mistake again, and the next sound out of your mouth will be screams of pain when I remove your head from your body." Ga'ran snarls.

"And pray tell, who would carry out that threat? _You_?" The host of _Debauched Steel_ sneers with crossed arms. "Because last time I checked, you were dethroned by Wright and my former protégé turned brainwashed puppet before passing out in a glorified kiddy pool."

"While it is true that I may have suffered a few minor setbacks at the hands of those meddlesome attorneys, they can easily be undone thanks to your powers. That is why my wish is for you to make me Queen of Khura'in for the rest of time." Ga'ran haughtily proclaims.

"Granted." Kristoph replies with a sinister grin.

The host of _Debauched Steel_ raises his arms in the air, causing bolts of electricity to stream between his hands, emitting a blinding light. When the light diminishes, Ga'ran finds herself sitting on her imposing gold throne overlooking her audience chamber, the members of her Royal Guard standing before her and chanting their usual praises.

"Excellent." The Queen purrs as Lah'kee rubs her shoulders. "All is right with the world."

However, little does Ga'ran know that as she enjoys her restored position of power, the moon- which has been reshaped in the likeness of Kristoph's glaring face, complete with large glowing red eyes- is hurtling towards Khura'in, growing larger and larger with each passing second as it starts to glow a bright reddish-orange from entering the atmosphere.

But alas, before anyone can even react to the terrifying celestial object, it collides into the kingdom, engulfing it, as well as the entire world, in a sea of flames.

Meanwhile, Kristoph observes the scene unfolding from the safety of a space station in Earth's orbit.

"When the moon crushes your land, destroying the world in flames so grand, that's a terrible fate." Kristoph sings with a sneer on his face before turning to the camera. "I am Kristoph Gavin, and I thank you for watching _Debauched Steel_."

* * *

 **A/N:** I would like to thank JordanPhoenix for submitting the idea for this chapter. And while on the topic of readers, here's my reply to a guest reviewer.

 **DJJ680:** In that case, you'll be glad to know that after many months of brainstorming, I think I've finally come up with a good way for Kristoph to strike down Iris. And the beautiful part is that Kristoph doesn't even have to inflict any direct physical and/or emotional pain to get the job done.

With that said, I want to wish you all a happy holiday season filled with much joy and merriment. You guys are such great readers who I will always enjoy writing stories for.


End file.
